For the Love of the Game
by E.J. Cady
Summary: An alternative fic where Tara is a game tester that makes it her personal mission to make Pam, a marketing executive, smile.
1. Chapter 1

Tradition is a cultural continuity in social attitudes, customs, and institutions. For Tara, babysitting her mother was a Saturday morning tradition she resented because she missed out on her cartoons. Friday night ensured her mother gone for the rest of the evening. She made sure her friends, the few she had, never stayed the night. By more morning at an ungodly hour her mother would be stumbling in loudly, it was bad enough she had to endure it. She wouldn't expose her friends to it.

For years tradition scared the hell out of Tara, in some aspects it still did. Though, as she got older with a broader understanding of duality, she didn't fear it as much. In fact she embraced it on mornings like these, where she could pick out the newbie. The first day as a game tester most employees are surprised at the laid back atmosphere. No one wore suits; no one ironed their clothes by necessity. As long as they weren't blatantly sloppy they were presentable for work. But on the first day most people came looking especially presentable influenced by the suits they see walking around the Mortcom building.

"We got a live one," she heard her colleague and roommate needlessly hum leaning on the wall separating her cubicle from his.

Tapping her pencil on her bottom lip she watched his awkward movements. He had a bag slung over his shoulder, probably holding his lunch. His button was complimented by a dark blue tie and tan corduroy slacks. He had sandy blond hair with chiseled features that made him universally attractive.

"He's sexy."

"He's straight."

"I'm not going ask him to make a life decision bitch."

Tara swiveled her chair away from the amusing sight of the newbie batting away hands fingering his tie curiously. It reminded her of the scene in Toy Story, where the little alien toys were gawking at Woody in the claw machine in the alien arcade, so funny, but not as funny as her roommate.

Lafayette eyed her oddly when she noticed she was staring.

"What?"

"You _look_ like the guy who was sitting beside me during the sexual harassment seminar."

Lafayette dismissed his coworker, "bitch don't trip. You know you're the reason they scheduled it a month early." Dodging a balled up piece of paper he laughed hysterically. Tara cracked a smile. The real reason for the early seminar was sparked by a marketing executive's complaints about a Lego heart placed in her office. Tara had a reputation as being the office prankster so naturally she was blamed.

Tara's hard life made her angry, all the time. The gamer twelve years ago was a troubled kid. She didn't like who she was. With a little money, her love of videogames and four dead end jobs later she made Mortcom her home. Inspired by the laid back atmosphere and her roommate Lafayette she mellowed out. The pranks began as a friendly rivalry with her roommate that was received kindly by human resources as long as it didn't interrupt the working environment. To everyone's surprise it even spawned a laser tag team for the game testers while other branches of the company, who were interested in spending their Saturday's in a laser tag game house, were welcome.

Pamela Swynford De Beaufort, the marketing executive who made the made the complaint, knew of Tara by reputation. She rarely dealt with the gamers personally using their game reports as a reference to their personalities. As the lead of her own team, she used her employees to talk to the game testers finding many of them lacking in common courtesies. She would even go as far as to say they were socially inept. Pam wasn't a snob; she just accepted the majority of people who worked in The Pit, weren't up to her standards of social expectations either by choice or environmental design. Tara's name circulated a lot as a prankster and with no other material evidence to prove she was the culprit the dark woman was immediately blamed.

Lafayette knew that Tara thought the executive was attractive. And he also knew the person truly responsible left the company three months ago for personal reasons. It was old news now, but Tara had taken offense to being pin pointed without having ever had a real conversation with the blond.

"Give me the hat."

Her dark roommate frown visibly, "for?"

"It's tradition," Tara stated simply.

"It's mean," Lafayette returned.

"Its bad luck to ignore tradition Lafayette," she chose her most ominous tone. The knowledge of her roommate's penchant for believing superstitions at first amused her. There were few times she lowered herself to exploit it, but today it was to serve a higher purpose—revenge. Tara was attracted to Pam as much as she could be with only being familiar with the exterior of a practical stranger. Though, if the game tester had ever entertained the thought or been inclined to act on that attraction, it couldn't happen. Pam had ruined the bubble of perfection that surrounded her with false accusations. Tara took it personally more so because she was rejected before she even mustered the courage to ask the executive out.

The phrase bad luck made Lafayette shutter. He disappeared from view exaggerating the task of opening and closing his desk drawer before he reappeared again.

"Here bitch," he scowled pursing his lips. Sympathetic eyes, colored green courtesy of tinted contacts, fell on the innocent face of a man eager to work.

She got up with the baseball cap in hand. Folded pieces of paper mixed under her fingers, "you coming?"

"No," he pouted in his seat.

Tara didn't pay him any mind.

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The Pit was a rectangular building with posters of the videogames from past to present, Tara was more partial to the retro designs, but knew redesign was necessary to keep their company current. The Pit, as a lot of people liked to call their work place, was a collection of cubicles and odd furniture from oversized plastic blocks to 53 inch high bean bags. There were twenty three game testers in all. Despite the diverse personalities and background they agreed on one thing when everything else divided them, getting paid to play videogames was the life.

She followed the trail sandwiched by nerds of all shapes and sizes to arrive at the lost looking newbie. He jumped when he heard her greet him. Straightening his tie he gave her a dumb smile that almost made her want to abort her selfish mission.

"I'm Jason," He stood to shake her hand, "Jason Stackhouse." He shook her hand as if he was genuinely eager to meet her.

"Tara," she offered brightly missing his hand when it was pushed away by an overzealous Lafayette who took it instead.

"Oh, what a strong grip," the darker man teased batting his new eye lashes, "I'm Lafayette, but if it pleases you to call me anything else you go ahead."

Jason's smile didn't falter from Lafayette's flirtation. There were some coworkers that liked to think of her roommate as another species in order to make sense of him. It was their unconventional coping mechanism. That shit got on Tara's nerves, but he encouraged her to ignore it understanding that people coped with different things in different ways. Tara found that she immediately liked Jason folding the hat in her grip listening to the newbie explaining that he didn't know how to dress and Lafayette complimenting him on his tastes.

"What's that?" Jason nodded toward the hat Tara was holding without explanation.

"What's what?" Tara stalled.

Jason pointed chuckling at the oddities of his coworkers, "the paper in the hat. Ya'll do Secret Santa this early in June?"

Tara looked down at the hat. She looked at Lafayette to help make up an excuse. While they struggled to come up with a lie, a thin man with dimples hovered over them pointing the hat eager to be included in the office prank. "_We're_ a pretty tight knit community of gamers. _We_ like to think of ourselves as more than the oompa loompa's the gaming factory," Tara cringed as Dylan barreled on enunciating 'we' in a way that would make anyone suspicious. She looked at him waiting for him to wink at her in front of Jason, so he would know it was total bullshit. "_We_ think of interesting ideas and the newbie to feel included gets to pitch them to—."

"Marketing," Tara jumped in. If she couldn't abandon the plan she might as well put it back on course.

Dylan their tall helper encouraged him to dive in and choose. Jason smiled at the expectant gazes that looked up from their respective cubicles. He even heard snickering chalking it up to excitement for them. Turning his head to the right and away from the hat he pulled out a piece of paper.

"What's it say?" Dylan asked.

Lafayette and Tara peeked over trying to read it upside down.

"Using the Changlar Dance of War in a commercial to market the C-verse game," he frowned, for a moment Tara thought he might figure out their ploy. Instead his head came up frown gone and the same dumb smile that endeared the dark woman to her new colleague was firmly planted on his face. "I know this dance," he held the paper up excitedly.

"Great," Tara smiled warily.

Lafayette smiled as Dylan took Jason aside to give him the details," marketing?"

"What?"

"Marketing?"

"Their full of people with a sense of humor," Tara defended. She half listened to Dylan explaining that Jason ha d until the end of the day to complete the assignment. Almost everyone would be relaxed after the hectic morning demands of meetings and paperwork and pitches. Deadlines are usually in before four thirty and that was the time he suggested he present to the Executive of Marketing.

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Pam stood in the elevator pressing the button to the sixth floor. She looked at her phone as her phone dinged from a new message. Her face softened at the sight of his handsome smile. Her best friend was a true lothario of excess. The man took bachelor party to a different level. Almost every weekend since he announced his engagement with she threw him a bachelor party at his behest. Eric's bride- to-be wasn't privy to his premature celebrations. Pam didn't doubt if she had known then there would be no wedding to celebrate. She didn't know why Eric was getting married at all.

She'd known him for fourteen years. They were friends with benefits for two of those years before they grew bored with each other. Their relationship consisted of talking about thriving careers or nonexistent sex lives; the non existent sex life was more Pam's personal topic. In that time they shared a bond that each of their prospective lovers envied even though it was now and forever platonic. Eric's fiancée Nora, hated her, but went out of her way to show Pam she didn't. Pam thought it was amusing and Eric paid it no mind. The executive had to admit that she was impressed by the lengths Eric went to just to ensure that his fiancée never found out about his indiscretions—she supposed that was his way of loving her.

She got off the elevator and stopped to read a text while a lanky intern pushed a cart of files and drawings across the hall, barely missing her shoes.

_Looking at the perfect woman for you_

He enjoyed meeting women on the pretense that he was admiring them for Pam. It was a game he liked to play that she never took seriously. Pam expected a text message later stating that this mystery beauty just accepted his proposal for a trial date in which Eric could feel her out for her. Simply put, he would romance her and sleep with her then tell Pam all the details. He knew her well enough that if he was serious about one of these women being for her she would flake on the date. Surprised and inspired by the number of women that fell for the line, 'you look like my best friend's type' he continued it just to get laid.

When the intern pushed the cart of out her way she strode to the other end of the floor to her office.

Pam walked with confidence. She was envied and admired for her tenacity as a designer and a business mind. Games weren't her first choice when she entered the workforce, but she saw that it held a lucrative future. Video games were a billion dollar business and with popularity of online games rising exponentially, it seemed to be the best place to be as a career. People liked to be entertained. Entertainment in all its forms, at least for a while, let people forget about their problems.

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A box of honey coated peanuts and a bottle of wine kept, Pam's secretary Venus, pliant and happy. The Pit formed an alliance with select secretaries. They offered them a heads up on company projects or offered them gossip from their floors. It was Lafayette's idea to keep their band of misfits in the loop, especially when the rest of the company perceived them as a weird collection of nerdy gamers. It always paid off to be underestimated.

There was a fifty inch TV on the wall where they could watch shows that were a majority favorite. Dylan hooked it up so that the image on his computer screen could be seen on the large TV. Via web cam they were being streamed the view from Venus' computer. Tara and Lafayette stood at the back watching Jason sit in the chair expectantly twiddling his fingers. The others had moved forward like eager children crowded around their favorite show.

The image moved so that it was looking directly in the office with the blinds opened wide enough for them to watch the show.

A borrowed boom box, volunteered by a gamer, sat at his feet. Inside it were compilations of C-verse scores collected over time. Jason introduced himself as a new employee from The Pit. He bent down and began playing the music that started off with drumming. The Changlar Dance of War played as Pam stood warily by her desk. He pushed the chair out of the way and with gesticulations of his body, that had Lafayette and Tara appreciating how well he moved. Jason did the dance perfectly. There were three pivotal flips that were perfectly executed and the last left him on her desk giving it all he had.

Tara no longer able to stand sat down in her chair wiping the tears from her eyes. It was hilarious to watch his commitment to it and even more so than Pam's reaction. His arms spread wide concurring with the rhythm of the chanting.

The Pit erupted in a mixture of excited laughter and applause when he was finished. Everyone close enough to hear would think they were having a celebration. And anyone who knew them would know they were up to no good.

The last image they saw was Pam pointing to her door and Jason packing his things and leaving dejectedly.

"I know some part of me should feel bad," Tara wiped the tears from her eyes.

"Girl there are parts of me feeling just right," Lafayette stroked his chest looking at Dylan's Pac Man screen saver.

Tara's face folded in a scowl, "put that in the category of shit you never need to share with me again."


	2. Chapter 2

A round of applause met Jason when he returned to The Pit. He took a physical step back on the verge of retreat then he realized he was walking into a warm reception. Again, that dumb smile and Tara shook her head. He walked over to Lafayette and Tara narrowing his eyes.

"If this is how you treat fresh meat around here, I want to be in on the next prank."

"As you wish," Lafayette answered silkily.

No moment more than now made the duo certain that Jason was a man to keep around. He had taken the ice breaker considerably well. In the past the new gamers were angry or upset for the remainder of the day, with a few hours to think over what happened they calmed down. Some gamers were surprisingly sensitive Tara discovered.

"New guy's expected upstairs," Tara's countenance physically darkened when Dylan hung up the phone and gave them the message.

"Am I gonna get fired?" he asked to no one in particular.

"Naw, lets go," Tara threw on her jacket logging off of her computer for the day. She grabbed a box of peanut brittle out of her desk.

"Where you going hookah?" Lafayette queried.

"I'm going with Jason. He shouldn't get in trouble just because _she_ doesn't have a sense of humor."

Tapping him on the shoulder she gestured for Jason to follow her. One last look at a forlorn Lafayette he caught up to her at the door. They rode up the elevator in silence. The floor lit slowly with each floor they passed.

"This is a hell of a way to start my new job."

Tara nodded absently. The doors opened. She took a step out and went straight down the hall then took a right. The secretary shook her head while on the phone. Tara half sat on the desk with her back to the large wooden double door stained rich red. The box of peanut brittle sat on her lap while a nervous Jason sat opposite the desk.

"How much trouble are we in?" Tara asked when the Vice President's secretary hung up the phone.

The receptionist pursed her lips eyes on the box. "I only called a Jason Stackhouse. What are you doing here?"

Tara smiled amused at Mrs. Bates. She kept the box out of reach knowing full well she brought it for the helpful secretary.

"I'm here for moral support."

Mrs. Bates was sure that whatever had their Executive of Marketing upset, Tara was the mastermind as she usually was. The dark skinned woman was a breath of fresh air. Playful and considerate to a fault, the older woman envied Tara's carefree nature finding being around her was as good as any consolation. She pressed a button speaking over the machine. She informed her boss Mr. Stackhouse was waiting. After she let the button go they heard the Vice President say send him in.

With an endearing smile Tara followed Jason leaving the peanut brittle on the desk.

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Since birth Sam Merlotte, as the only son of Tex Merlotte, was groomed to take his father's place of his textile company. His father couldn't have been more disappointed when Sam chose gaming industry instead of the family business. Years of doing exactly as his father asked Sam, for the first time in his life, went against his father's wishes investing some of his inheritance on a company few thought would work.

He wasn't entirely a self made man, with enough privilege to exempt him from the category. He was, however, someone who knew what he wanted. He wanted Pam because she showed promise and no one had yet to give her a real chance working at a small firm in Atlanta. Her talents were wasted at the packaging firm, whose clients were mostly small time cell phone providers. He'd never questioned his decision since. She was a hard worker that rarely came to him with problems she couldn't fix herself. That measure of independence spoke volumes about character. On the few occasions where she did come to him with troubles it worried him.

Jason walked through the door as if he was walking toward a shooting squad. Two people were in the room waiting for him. A man with gray checkering his full head of hair and beard and the other he recognized as the Executive he danced for earlier. Tara appeared behind him depositing a supportive hand on his back, pushing him slightly when he had stopped when two sets of eyes landed on them.

Merlotte looked to Tara in question. Pam's right brow rose with the line of her mouth in a stoic line.

"Have a seat Mr. Stackhouse," Sam gestured toward the seat he stood in front of but his eyes were trained on Tara. The Vice President addressed her, "Ms. Thornton what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

"I deserve to share half blame," Jason turned to her not expecting her support. She was jeopardizing her job for a relative stranger.

Sam crossed his arms then turned to Pam, who still stood by the window, appreciating her boss's view of Savannah, Georgia. Pam wasn't moved by Tara's selflessness. If they had never done it, that would have impressed her more.

"Ms. De Beaufort, didn't appreciate the prank tradition or not," he said the last part pointedly. "It's nice to have positive and productive ways to build camaraderie as long as they don't disrupt the work environment." Sam paused looking to Pam for help, "the dance of…what was it?"

Tara ready to answer was interrupted by the last person she thought would know the answer, "Changlar Dance of War."

"Yes that," he turned to Tara and Jason now both sitting side by side like delinquents waiting to be reprimanded by their principal.

"We thought it'd be an interesting way to present an idea for a commercial to promote the C-verse game," Tara jumped in. If there was a semblance of reason to their madness she would grab hold of it like a drowning swimmer.

Pam turned her body fully towards Tara now. "Really? It had nothing to do with humiliating me in front of my staff?"

Tara smirked, "being the victim of false accusations _that's_ humiliating. Having a cute guy dance for you not so much," Tara held her hands out with her palms illustrating an imaginary scale to make her point.

"Alright," Sam stepped in before the two women got out of control. "No more pranks at the expense of coworkers Tara," Sam began in a tone that wouldn't be argued with.

Tara and Jason listened to Mr. Merlotte lecture them about employee etiquette and common courtesy for senior members. Tara would be cited, as Sam allowed her to take full responsibility, leaving Jason with a clean slate when he came back to work the next day. The sandy haired gamer was relieved. Tara's reprimand was a slap on the wrist, but it went unnoticed with her mind still on Pam.

Sam dismissed them all claiming he needed to get ready for dinner with a shareholder. Everyone filed out. Pam walked unhappy their punishment wasn't as sever as she proposed before they came. Mrs. Bates desk was empty. She looked at the time on her phone and realized while they were getting their asses chewed out many people had already gone home. Jason pressed the button for the elevator creating as much space between him and Pam as possible.

Tara answered her ringing phone.

"Where you at hookah?"

"Top floor, you waiting for me downstairs?"

"Depends are you cooking tonight?"

"No, but I'll wash the dishes."

Lafayette and Tara smiled to themselves knowing it was for the best. Tara hadn't had too many chances to learn how to cook. She relied on fast food and other people's cooking to survive. They realized immediately she was hopeless, when Lafayette put her in charge of tending to the noodles for lasagna she offered to help with.

"Y..hold on," she looked over at Jason. He went through a lot on his first day; the least she could do was offer him dinner, "You want to come over for dinner? My way of saying sorry for a crappy first day?"

"Is that my husband?" she heard Lafayette ask, but she ignored him.

"Stir fried shrimp with New Orleans Rum," Tara moaned at the memory of its rich taste. She bought the ingredients yesterday after work so Lafayette could make it tonight.

Pam drank in the dark skinned woman's moan with interest keeping her eyes on the elevator doors now opening.

Jason looked uncertain stepping in the elevator. Tara continued, "We've got plenty of liquor and videogames."

"You guys sure you know how to party like its 1999," Pam drawled. She hit the button for her floor.

Tara hung up with Lafayette then joined the others in the elevator. Pam stood in the back. Jason stood on the right side leaving Tara's back mostly to them. Tara spoke to Jason, "now she gets a sense of humor."

Pam didn't let Jason answer her if he was going to answer, "I don't do slapstick humor. And I don't care for it in the work place."

Tara whipped around, "it was a joke."

"It wasn't funny. Keep to your videogames because you don't seem to have a talent for anything else," Pam purred viciously.

She hated that she was attracted to the blond. She would be so much easier to hate if she didn't embody the perfect woman in her musings of the perfect woman. Her hair was up in a bun with a bang coifed to the side like her sexy librarian fantasy. Her hands rested challenging on her waist and dormant visions of Linda Carter as Wonder Woman raced forward with a vengeance. _ Shit_, she was in trouble. Turning around didn't help. Watching Pam's backside as she walked out didn't help. Her perfume filling the small space definitely didn't help as the smell lingered on her clothes.

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Pam stood at the entrance of her office turning out the light. Her eyes trailed from the empty room to the dark office space, illuminated by random sources of light that didn't reach the gloomy corners. The door shut behind her. The loneliness sat in the second she closed her door without work to distract her from the decisions that got her here.

Her home would be as quiet as this dead floor. The hum of her fish tank to quell the anxiety she felt in absolute silence. Pam would have like to have a more active pet, but she knew with the hours she put it it would be unfair to have a dog or cat.

_You're future wife is incredible in bed _

She glared at the text message. Sometimes her best friend's sense of humor was imperfect and unwelcomed. Contemplating loneliness only to have sex thrown in her face, she ignored the phone call that came after it. If she was going to have a night alone, she'd rather not hear about the details of Eric's conquest.

Getting into her car she thought about ordering out. Stir fried shrimp with New Orleans Rum sounded delicious, but she wouldn't admit that to Tara. The woman was insufferable. Granted the Executive made a mistake accusing her three months ago because of unfounded assumptions. However, it never went beyond the nonthreatening job inquiry. Tara's actions tonight were deplorable, in her opinion.

45 minutes out of the city Pam parked her Honda in the driveway. The rocks crunched under her heel. She couldn't bring herself to cement the drive preferring to keep that house and everything around it untouched. She liked the age of the house. It made her feel closer to the parts of her childhood she didn't mind remembering.

Pam lived in a plantation styled home she inherited from her mother. It was a trophy in her parent's divorce that her mother never lived in. The house had been in her father's family for generations. Her mother wanted it out of spite. A fourteen year old Pam picked up the phone by accident and heard her father calling her mother unflattering names and the matriarch gave as good as she got. Pam was grateful for the time they tried to spare her by fighting in private. But, those fights never stayed private for long and their pretense of discretion fell away soon after.

Her parents grew petty to parade their new love interests around, even though they were still considered married. She would have liked the few months she spent with her mother before breast cancer took her life they mended what was broken. She left Pam the house an act that her daughter assumed was to continue to spite her father. When the divorce was over he didn't make an effort to fight for Pam as hard as he had the house.

She undressed going straight to the bathroom run a hot bath. Pam wanted to forget about work, that gamer, and her loneliness. Perhaps by the time she did that, she would figure out what she wanted to eat even though she wasn't especially hungry. Pam felt the day's tension slowly ebb away in the warmth of water. It was a simple therapy she practiced religiously. Unfortunately, it wouldn't dissuade her thoughts of the latter part of her day away.

"No sense of humor," she mumbled to the empty room. Her voice echoed in the marble room.

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Tara and Lafayette's two bedroom studio apartment said very little about Tara's personality if someone knew Tara enough. The colors were loud, but complimentary with a purple couch set with orange pillow and a soft orange rug underneath.

Jason hadn't expected Lafayette's cooking to be so good. If he weren't obsessed with women, he would consider taking the cook up on several of his overt offers of sex.

"This is fantastic." He pointed to his plate with his fork.

They usually had leftovers, but Jason would ensure tonight they wouldn't. Tara was at the sink finishing up the last of the dishes. She only had Jason's plate to clean when he was finished.

"My momma told me the way to a man's heart was through his stomach. In my _extensive research_ I've found she was absolutely right. So I have perfected several dishes designed to make the lucky man who acquires this on a permanent basis," his hand made a flourish over the length of his body, "happy."

Tara came around the island of their kitchen and jumped on the couch getting comfortable. Lafayette frowned at the treatment to his couch. When they became roommates it was adjustment to have Tara around. She made her presence known in almost every room. From dirty sneakers sitting on the living room rug to the red lace bra of some woman, who decided to leave a souvenir, he was reminded he didn't live alone. There were moments when he missed it while others he wouldn't live without her.

"So what's the deal with that Pam chick?"

Jason took care of the last dish and returned to the living area with an open beer in his hand as he watched Tara getting ready to play Guitar Hero by remote.

Tara shrugged exaggerating her disinterest, by focusing on what wardrobe she wanted for her character. Lafayette sipped from his ceramic cup. Green eyes flicked suggestively towards Tara when Jason met them seeking an answer.

"Ahhh," he leaned back in understanding.

"Ahhh what?" She hadn't begun the game before she paused.

Jason shook his head, "nothing," he rested his beer on his stomach, "you got good tastes."

Tara rolled her eyes returning to her game. Lafayette and Jason didn't intend to let sleeping dogs lie.

"She hasn't done anything about it yet," Lafayette stated.

Jason licked his lips in an effort to tame his smile, "I think she's got a good chance."

"Really?"

"Yea sure," he leaned forward on his knees as Lafayette crossed is legs on the other side of Tara, who sat astutely playing Pat Benatar's Love is a battlefield. "She's got cougar written all over her."


	3. Chapter 3

"You're going about this romancing thing all wrong," Lafayette wiped at his tired eyes when he saw a bouquet of flowers sitting on the table. His slippers dragged on the floor in his refusal to pick up his feet so early in the morning.

"I ain't got nothing to do with that. Pam sent those as an apology." Tara started unlacing her sneakers. She liked to go out for a run at least twice a week before she went to work. She never could entice her roommate so she went out alone with her headphones and music to keep her company. When she returned a messenger holding gifts, Pam's proverbial white flag, stood at the door.

Carrying her load inside and immediately dropping the gifts gently on the table she searched for a card. Her first thought was one of Lafayette's admirers were trying to earn brownie points. A card with Pam's name scrawled in the feminine flourish of cursive was the last thing the gamer expected. She took a step back from the gifts eyeing them warily.

_An apology? _Tara wasn't sold on the idea, but it had been a week since the incident with Jason. Tara remembered confronting her and perhaps this was her way of coping with being wrong.

"Ooooh these look delicious and expensive," Lafayette opened the box, biting into the chocolate without asking if he could have one.

Tara didn't mind. She wasn't a big fan of sweets. She heard her roommate chewing all the way to the bathroom. She hoped he wasn't going in there to shower. He took forever and had a tendency to leave her with all the cold water. She felt sweaty and sticky from her run.

Stretching her body she was startled by a Lafayette's screams. Jumping into action Tara picked up the nearest thing she could find to fend off whatever danger had him screaming she stopped cold outside the door as it was yanked open.

The bat ready to be swung hung in mid air when Lafayette still screaming pointing, "look at my fucking mouth!"

"Oh shit," the sentiment came out in a rumble of laughter. "What the hell you do?"

The bat fell to her side and her other hand held her stomach feeling her muscles contract from the effort so soon after running. When the Lafayette's hysterics died down to pathetic whimpers mourning his pearly whites Tara inspected the expensive looking chocolates he praised. Poking one open a black substance came oozing out solving the mystery of his stained teeth.

He glared at the box throwing it in the trash when he realized they were the culprits.

"How long does it take to get this shit off?"

"Days," Tara tried to hide her smile.

"I know I didn't just fucking hear you say days."

Her smile peaked through answering weakly, "_days_."

"Oh hell no…. I am too beautiful to be a causality of war with you bitches," he jumped to his laptop to research how to reverse the affects quickly. "I'm calling out of work," he called after her when Tara shut the door to the bathroom to take her shower.

Undressing and letting her muscles relax under the water Tara thought Pam. It was the perfect way to get someone back. Enough time had passed by for Tara to be unconcerned about mystery gifts addressed to her. Pam's stony countenance didn't impress upon her a woman that could have a good time. It wasn't the first time Tara was wrong and it wouldn't be the last. She should have been angry, but as the one who dodged a bullet she could find more humor out of the situation than Lafayette

Passed the width of the door and the walls she heard her roommate moan dramatically. He was probably thinking of a lie to tell her to explain his absence for _days_. Tara incredibly amused at the thought chuckled water splashing erratically from her shaking.

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Pam rode the elevator to work with a smug smile on her face. Tara would have gotten her gift by now. She usually didn't stoop to petty pranks, but it was the gamers own fault. She underestimated Pam's tenacity to get her point across and right now she wanted Tara to know she wasn't a woman to be handled by a game junkie.

Her first instinct was to walk to The Pit and check in on the progress of projects. Reports weren't due until the end of next week. She liked to know what the games offered as an experience for the audience. With that knowledge she would know how to execute an effective marketing strategy. Pam held back promising herself that she would go down and gloat in due time. There was a strong possibility that she called out. The blond hoped she didn't. Her curls flowed over her shoulders. She wore a gray blouse and her pink knit skirt.

When she arrived at her office she was catered to by her secretary Venus. Sipping the hot coffee she breathed heavily filling her lungs with the coco scent. This woke her up in the morning. Her brain jump started. First thing of her morning checklist were her emails. She checked each one delegating the more important and the least important. She would read by the order or importance.

She had one meeting around lunch time, she frowned as Venus noted off she agreed to the proposal some weeks back. She didn't remember it, but she'd just have to turn it into a lunch date.

The rest of the day went by quickly with one hitch—she had to put one her graphic designer's in their place when they thought she was stifling their creativity. She enjoyed art as an expression, but it wouldn't market well if it was too creative for school aged kids to children in adult bodies to understand. All they wanted were airbrushed illustrations come to life on a poster or game package. Anything more would confuse them, but in doing her job she was stifling his creativity.

He sat in his seat standing his ground with his jaw set just so she knew he was serious. He was laughable. Pam sat behind her desk quietly as he stated his argument. When he was she spoke. It wasn't elegant as she would have liked it since he insisted on interrupting her. Her patience bordering on nonexistence finally dissipated with his grating tirades.

"I don't see us agreeing to disagree Chad. So by all means be a martyr for your cause and join the population of the unemployed." She swiveled her chair in the direction of her door opening. "It's a long walk of shame. It's cold there, but I'm sure the other unemployed won't mind the company since you've got plenty of hot air to keep them warm too."

The designer swallowed. He gave her a modest version of an apology and she dismissed him tired of looking at him.

"You're twelve fifteen has arrived," Venus stated over the speaker of her phone.

Pam shuffled papers on her desk. The impromptu meeting with Chad left the Executive unprepared. She forgot to tell Venus to call her favorite restaurant for reservations, even worse still her desk was in disarray.

"Send them in," she stated when her desk resembled a desk again.

There was a pause, but then Tara came walking through her door. Pam's expectant face fell and a mask of indifference took its place. Then Tara smiled and her eyes went a little wider.

Tara watched her face carefully. She didn't she conventional surprised which disappointed her. As soon as she smiles she noticed that Pam couldn't stay impassive. Her teeth were untouched.

"What are you doing here I have a meeting."

"I am you're meeting."

Tara's nail dotted the top of the chair intended for visitors and guests. The dark haired woman made it a point to look at her watch.

"We should get going and enjoy lunch."

Pam thought about refusing. Though, se had had nothing else to do that day. She picked up her purse. Venus wasn't at her desk which was probably a good thing for the secretary. With no other reason to delay she took the lead and strode to the elevators with a purse slung over her left arm.

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Their positions were reversed compared to the last time they rode an elevator together. Tara was in the back admiring the view of Pam's backside under the pretense of typing a text message. Pam on her own phone stole glance noting that Tara's phone was out as well.

They were joined by groups of people with the same idea to go out to eat. Lafayette had been so depressed to do anything more than curl on the couch and groan aloud to anyone who would listen. When she got to work she sent a warning to Jason, who had become a fixture in their small family, not to text Lafayette. She warned him about the situation that he found as funny as he did. The blond nodded in understanding and followed up by asking what she would do in retaliation.

It hadn't escaped her notice the chocolates were meant for her. Tara thought long and hard what she would have done if Pam had succeeded. She would have stormed to work and called war, but obviously it would have been redundant since Pam was waving faux flags of peace.

Following the clicks of her heels Tara watched the woman moved with a feline grace that incited Tara's blood to a warm boil.

"Since we're headed to the same place, you won't mind if we take your car do you?"

Tara took advantage of the public transportation of the city and sold her car to pay for living expenses and necessities. She lived in a motel for almost a month before she found her job and her new roommate. If she needed to go anywhere she took Lafayette's car, but he was very happy to oblige her with the keys. As punishment for finding humor in his ordeal he told her to take the bus. She shook head at the drama queen, but didn't let his attitude affect her. She had a mission.

"Nice try," she finally said on the other side of Pam's silver car.

The doors unlocked. Pam got in first and Tara followed getting in with a wide smile.

Tara admired the fiber of the black seats. Leather was volatile under every weather condition. When she had her car she hated that it was cold in the winter. Her behind would be freezing while she sat in her car as he tried to warm up. Then in the summer, which was worse since she was in the south, her seats burned. She had even taken to putting a cloth steering wheel cover on it so she wouldn't burn her hand when she drove on sunny days.

"Whatever do you mean?" she asked dryly.

The sun shined after they left the underground parking lot. Tara wasn't in the mood for anything foreign.

"You have somewhere in mind you like to go?" she changed the subject long enough to tend to the question of sating her hunger.

"Not really," the Executive answered.

Tara nodded and began directing her East towards where she and Lafayette lived. They were leaving downtown and close to the nearest community college, the name escaped her. There was a small mom and pop eatery around the corner of it called the Pineapple Cafe.

Pam hoped the food wasn't as hideous as their logo. Tara was pleased they got there in time before the crossed filled the small restaurant up. They took their seats and immediately ordered from the menu. She wanted the honey mustard chicken wrap with Ranch dressing on the side and waffle fries. Pam, intrigued by her companion's choice, asked for the same thing except without the Ranch; she couldn't stand the taste of the dressing.

"You have Lafayette very upset with you," Tara ended the silence after the waitress returned with their drink orders.

"He doesn't like chocolate?" Pam asked innocently wrapped her mouth around her straw.

Tara almost choked on her drink. She needed to get herself together. If she couldn't how did she expect to get through lunch with the Executive?

"He loves chocolate. A little bit too much," Tara added smiling at the memory of his screaming and pointing at his tongue like a maniac. "If you'd done your research you'd know I'm not a big chocolate fan."

"You're aware I could use all the information you tell me against you right?"

"I thought I could share tricks of the trade."

"Why the hell would you do that?" she drawled suspiciously.

"Maybe I like the idea of your company." Much of the last part of what Tara said was true.

She smiled even wider when Pam warily watched her surroundings. She acted as if Tara had lured her there to specifically put her in harms way.

"Keep your enemy close and shit," Tara smiled holding her straw between her teeth. _This was going to be fun_.


	4. Chapter 4

Tara wiped her mouth with a napkin as Pam packed her meal in a Styrofoam plate. She hadn't expected such amusing company. Different aspects of their life converged into an articulate camaraderie of opposites. Just when she was about to half heartedly mention they should do it again a couple coming in caught her attention. Her eyes bulged when she saw a familiar faces. Pam didn't have the luxury of noticing who it was, that caused Tara's reaction until she followed her line of sight.

Tara lowered her head wishing their waitress hadn't taken their menus. Doing the best she could with her hand Pam too amused not to look did what Tara didn't want her to do.

"Tara!"

"Shit," she groaned audibly. She hurried the last sentence along matching the quick pace of the long legs headed towards her table. "As inappropriate as it sounds I need you to act like we're a couple for a second." Tara looked at her in pleading holding her fingers together to illustrate how little time she needed.

"Hey Naomi," Tara smiled at the brunette dropping her hand to the table.

"I didn't know you still came here."

Tara nodded thinly. Naomi's girlfriend came up behind her claiming her hand possessively Pam noticed. Bored eyes examined the couple also reading Tara's body language in response to their arrival. The blond hadn't realized how relaxed Tara was around her until she saw the woman visibly tense.

"Yea," Tara offered intelligently.

Pam's phone went off turning all eyes on her. She read the text and the one that came after it from Nora:

_OMG! WEDDING SOS!_

The second text she read gave her an address and 'need u now' in all caps.

She didn't feel like dealing with Nora. Pam hated the thought of dealing with Nora with wedding details. Then her eyes flicked to Tara. Perhaps she couldn't beat the dark skinned woman at her own game, but she could do what came naturally—negotiate.

Pam's voice was thick with forced caring, "you remember that _thing_ you asked me about?"

Tara lost in the sultry timbre of her voice, stared dumbly before she realized Pam was waiting on an answer, "yeah."

"I'll do it if you promise to do that other thing for me." Pam knew the other thing she spoke of hadn't been discussed yet. But, if she was going to spend some of her break masquerading as something she wasn't she may as well get something out of it.

"Sure," Tara was more desperate to save face in front of her ex than she was worried about where Pam's cryptic conversation was going.

The blond answered her reply standing from the table collecting her purse. Leaning over she picked up Tara's chin depositing a long lingering kiss. Her nails painted dark red sank into Tara's skin enough to hurt in a good way, "meet you at the car."

Pam straightened. Pausing to acknowledge, in courtesy, Tara's 'friends' then she went out to her car.

"Who _is_ that?"

"Do you really have to ask?" The shit eating grin on Tara's face wasn't hard to fake. In fact, it was genuine. She hadn't expected the kiss. But she wouldn't waste it, when two people that fucked her over not too long ago, were gawking at her faux girlfriend's ass.

Naomi recovered first dragging her eyes away, "she's a little bit older."

"In all the right ways," Tara smiled as well leaving a tip before heading to the front counter to pay for lunch. Pam's food in hand she gave both brunettes' a happy smile that reached her eyes then left. She didn't question it, not when it was so obvious why she was happy.

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Tara played confident when she headed to the parking lot. She didn't want to rush outside as if she didn't think Pam would be waiting for her. It had crossed her mind that the blond would leave. She wouldn't be the first straight girl to freak out because she had time to think. After she realized what she had done—after she realized what Tara asked her to do.

Coming around the corner, right where Pam parked the blond leaned against the passenger side of the car. Coming up the sidewalk still a few feet away Tara breathed silent relief. She shook away memories of a seven year old being abandoned in a parking lot by her mother.

"I'm glad you got that," Pam pushed away from her car. "I didn't want Styrofoam ruining my exit."

Tara's words flew out before they were censored, "Styrofoam or not your exit wasn't in danger of being ruined."

Tara could have sworn the line of Pam's mouth curved upward. She couldn't be certain, because the blond whipped around checking traffic before she went to the driver's side. In the seat Tara looked at the blond when she wasn't looking. Admiring the lips she hadn't long been introduced to.

"I'm almost afraid to ask what I agreed to back there."

"You don't trust me?"

"That's a pretty strong word to be throwing around."

"Now isn't that what people say about love," Pam commented conversationally.

"Yea that's where most people get it wrong on the hierarchy of emotions," Tara explained. Her eyes drifted to the window in another time, "you can love someone to your core. Let me fill you up on the inside so there's no corner in you doubting how much you love them. But, when you fuck up the trust…. You can love someone and not trust them ever again."

Pam, who had been focusing on the road, spared a glance to her passenger. The tone of her words held sorrow. She mistakenly thought it had something to do the Naomi woman.

"You still love Naomi?"

Tara's head whipped to the other side.

"Hell no," the gamer crossed her legs at her ankle realizing they weren't going back to the office. "You should've seen her face when you walked out. Fucking A," Tara chuckled in memory. "Not that I think you're trying to kidnap me or anything, but we passed the office."

"I know."

Fingers drummed on her knee as she waited for Pam to elaborate, but the fair haired executive was fine with keeping her in the dark.

"Not that I think you're a serial killer driving me to my death or anything, but I'd still like to know."

Pam graced her with a smile.

"Damn," Tara breathed. Pam was staggering. The gamer almost wanted to be dropped off before Pam went off to do her errand. They were well passed an hour lunch. Didn't this woman have work?

Pam parked in front of a chain of store with glass windows. Tara with her distressed brown boots and jeans and a Flynn's arcade shirt felt out of place. They were in the expensive district Lafayette and she passed, questioning the sanity of the shoppers who strode in the stores like they could buy the place up without a worry.

"I question the sanity of people like you," Tara followed Pam out the car.

The executive rested her purse on her side quirking a brow, "people like me?"

"Yea, I bet you've spent a car payment on a pair of jeans?"

Pam looked Tara over carefully, "I don't do car payments." She lifted her hand and locked her car doors by remote.

It was an Olympic feat of emotion to go from intense attraction to severe disgust and back again, but that's what the older woman's comment incited. Tara looked over the clean sidewalk and the sparkling glass that looked to have just been cleaned today. Then their eyes locked in the first battle of wills since the meeting in Sam's office.

Tapping glass interrupted. Tara with an amused line forming on her mouth looked behind Pam. The blond pursed her lips looking upward. In her head she was counting to ten before she turned and returned Nora's elated greeting from the other side of the glass. Through unmoving teeth and the plastered smile, "you know that thing I mentioned in the café?"

"Yea," Tara drew out warily.

"This is it," she dropped her hand gesturing for Tara to follow.

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"I'm so glad you came," the bride ran to Pam embracing her when she came through the doors of the dressing room.

"I _am_ the maid of honor," Pam patted her back as if she had a disease Pam didn't want to catch. "What's the emergency?" the question came out with a breath of relief being freed brought.

"My dress is a disaster," the woman's eyes began to water.

Pam couldn't understand why she was fretting when she had a collection of dresses surrounding her. Even still she thought her last visit has clarified, for Nora, how much she loved this supposed disaster of a dress. Tara looked at the selection of dresses smirking. Though, the smile fell when she heard her name being called.

"Watch her," she pushed Nora aside and went in search for someone who wasn't crying.

"Hi," Tara greeted.

Nora looked from the departing Pam to this stranger, "hi." The dark skinned woman held a bronze box of tissues with a floral design out to the prospective bride.

Nora sat down. Tara left a lot of space between sitting the box of tissue down. From their vantage point they saw Pam talking to a thin woman Pam's height wearing dark heels and a green ensemble of skirt and Jacket Tara didn't care for. But what did she know about fashion? Lafayette would have loved it in here like a kid in a candy store.

She looked at her phone. She had a habit of putting it on silent which infuriated the few people that texted and called her. She'd miss their calls or answered text messages ten years after they were sent. Brushing her left hand on the back of the couch she smiled at the eight messages she missed already. Some were from Lafayette and some were from Jason. There was one message sent belonging to a number she couldn't place, but she knew it was from her mother.

"Alright Nora this young lady will take you to the back. I've got six dresses that I think will look superb on you."

Tara watched the brunette stand and be lead to the back by customer service. Pam joined her on the couch.

"So what am I doing?"

"She's going to come out and twirl around in six dresses. _You're_ going to like them all-except for one. The last one you're going to gush over."

Tara snorted provoking a brow that wouldn't tolerate noncompliance.

"I don't gush. I've never fucking gushed."

Pam glared her, but her eyes were devoid of the ice Tara was use to seeing directed at her.

"If I could kiss you, you can gush."

Their pretend romance could have been believable without the kiss. Pam was a dramatist at heart. She played roles all her life learning from the best, her own mother. She only expected the same courtesy she gave the gamer. Tara swallowed the insult that threatened to bubble forward. She fought hard to maintain the memory of Pam, who did save her from a potentially awkward and embarrassing reunion. Her mouth got her in trouble so for the sake of ending the day without making a fool of herself she did as Pam asked in an exaggerated fashion. Tara's voice raised a pitch when Nora finally came out with the last dress. It looked familiar and then she realized it was the dress that Nora was complaining she didn't like anymore. It was the same dress she ended up paying happily for.

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"You don't write. You don't call. I'm starting to wonder if we're friends anymore." Eric sat waiting for her on the steps of her home. The unexpectedly interesting lunch with Tara had been refreshing. Usually she combined lunch with work. The executive knew from past experience how unreliable Eric was for lunch dates. Stood up too many times for her liking she no longer proposed they try to catch up over a meal. So when they saw each other, they saw each other.

Climbing the stairs, she passed his seated frame. She could smell the alcohol on him. Rolling her eyes as she unlocked her door she left it open for him to follow. The relaxing night where she unwinds in peace wasn't in her near future.

"You are my only constant," Eric brushed his hand along her cheek softly.

"Don't I know it."

"I'm not in danger of losing you am I?"

"Why would you say something like that?"

Eric was charming until everyone got to know them. Pam complimented that because she wasn't charming until people did get to know her, but more often than not she scared them off. There must be something wrong with Tara if she was interested in knowing more about her.

"Celebrating early?" she saw him beeline for her bar. Her father's former pride and joy she rarely indulged in because she rarely drank. Those days were behind her. Eric on the other hand was drinking like he was chasing after the past.

"Nora told me you and you're _friend_ were a lifesaver with the wedding dress," he poured amber liquid in a tumbler.

Pam smiled oddly at the tall man with a complexion almost as fair as hers. She had never had new friends, distractions maybe, but not friends. She supposed he assumed Tara had to mean something to her to be invited on to aid her best friend's future bride.

He paused before he drank. "I don't think this wedding this set in until she finally decided on a dress," he swallowed figuratively and literally. He turned the conversation back to him; any conversation about Tara would be for later.

Situation her feet under her she played with her bracelet. "I don't care for the woman Eric, but she deserves a little more respect since she's bought the fucking dress." She was the moral compass when her best friend happened to be a man, they didn't make sense, but they worked.

"She's beautiful Pam," he took the seat on the floor with the bottle and tumbler in his lap. He would keep them nearby.

"If its beauty you want buy a painting. They last longer."

Looking into his drink he filled it up again. "Maybe," Eric half agreed.


	5. Chapter 5

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

Tara stared at the neon lights. She doubled checked the address and so did Lafayette. Her mother never ceased to amaze her. She walked through the smoky cloud paying admission begrudging parting with her twenty dollar bill. Lafayette looked around the room, his hand self consciously covering his mouth as he spoke.

"What the fuck Tara," he whispered in her ear. A topless waitress passed him with a smile he returned with hitched brows. "Why would you're mother give you a address for a fucking strip joint?"

Her roommate hadn't wanted to go out, but Tara didn't know what kind of trouble her mother was in. Lettie Mae hadn't specified to expect trouble of any kind, but Tara couldn't help but anticipate the night wouldn't end on a great note. Too many bad experiences prepared her for the worst.

She was at least grateful her mother hadn't appeared topless and offered them a drink.

"Yea," Tara looked around the room keeping an eye out for her mother. What she was doing in here she didn't know, but she knew she wouldn't like it.

Lafayette wrapped his arms around her arm tugging her close. The lewd glances weren't for his benefit.

"Where the hell is she?" she murmured to herself running across the back wall passed the stage. She stopped when she saw Pam. "What the hell is she doing here?"

"Who?" Lafayette's eyes strained in the dark, he scanned the crowd until he rested he gaze on the marketing executive and her friend. "Damn he look good."

Pam looked up. It wasn't that she had sensed anyone. She just happened to survey the crowd and instantly land on the last two figures she expected to see tonight.

"Let's go say hi."

Tara planted her feet. "You don't socialize at a strip club," Tara enunciated each syllable. It was an unspoken rule. It was like shaking hands at an adult peep show.

Her roommate continued to pull, "bitch we're not socializing, we're just saying hi."

Tara started, "I don't fucking want to say," Lafayette swung her forward, "hi." Looking like she wanted to run Tara stood her ground anyway.

Pam for her part didn't seem awkward about the situation they found themselves in. And Pam's friend definitely didn't see the awkwardness when he invited them for a round of drinks to sit.

"I'm getting married," he yelled over the music as he took a shot.

Tara's eyes immediately went to Pam. Then she recalled their visit at the wedding dress boutique earlier that day.

"When?" Lafayette asked as he moved his hips in his seat to the techno music. He kept his drink over his mouth at all times.

"I don't know. I plan on celebrating every weekend til I do tie the noose."

"Knot," Pam corrected.

Eric looked at her as if she'd grown another head, "that's what I said."

Eric happily offered with a large smile on his face. Pam shook her head at her companion. She was only there so Eric would have someone to drive him home safely. If he hadn't showed up on her doorstep she would have made an excuse not to go out that night. Eric suggested they go out. Well, it was along the lines of him threatening to drive drunk to find some trouble and Pam volunteered to be his designated driver. The first neon sign he saw he wanted to stop. Eric, drunk, was as obstinate and determined as any toddler who wouldn't be dissuaded when their mind is set.

The voice of an announcer filled the room as he introduced the fetish favorite Strawberry Gran.

"This is great," Eric told them, "You know how rodeos have clown's to fill the sets. Well they have a different girl every week. There was a dwarf," he held out his finger and he noted each category he'd seen. "They get thrown bills the club hands out." He stopped talking catching a waitress's attention. He held out twenty dollars to use some of the club money to throw at the old stripper.

Tara's eyes bulged out of her sockets. Her fist closed she looked to the bouncers who weren't doing their jobs. They just let this stranger with his dirty nails throw what looked like monopoly money at her mother. She felt sick.

Pam was disinterested. Lafayette was always up for fun and games. They were dividing the money behind Tara, who was glued the matriarchal failure. Why did she send her a text? Why ask her to come see her like this? What was so important that she couldn't wait and talk to when she had a measure of integrity? Hell, Tara would have settled for clothes.

"Tara," Lafayette tapped her arm with a bundle of play bills to hand her. The touch filled her with rage. Anger cut through shredding reason and sanity. The last straw was the pleading look on her mother's face when the amused bouncers weren't running to her aid.

Tara's fist met the face of the pervert manhandling her mother's g-string.

"Shit Tara," Lafayette followed behind the bouncer that was escorting her to the back office.

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"The bitch broke my nose!" the actor screamed holding said nose.

Tara looked unapologetic. She was on the far end of the room with her arms crossed. She declined the manager's offer for a seat.

"Hey baby," her mother's eyes were glazed over. Barely standing upright using the wall and door to seek her out.

"Baby?" the dark haired manager didn't look happy. The Lettie Mae act was supposed to bring a little more entertainment not a little more drama. It was bad enough they had to ban boyfriends, but now mother's daughters were trying to brawl in his club. It wasn't good for business no matter how impressive the right hook.

"She my mine Hank, my daughter," Lettie Mae confessed following up with, "she's a bit touched in the head."

"That's makes two of us," her daughter growled.

"Alright," he held his hands up. He didn't want to bring the police to his establishment for a matter that could be ironed out with a leading threat. "If you're family affair is messing with your work ethic…" he trailed off.

Lettie Mae stumbled to his desk tripping over the foot of her partner. He glared now holding his nose with a cloth one of the dancers provided.

"I need this job." Tara's mother didn't miss a beat. "She won't be any trouble any more. You won't even see her again."

Tara's heart pounded hard against her chest. This was surreal. Why was she here? Her mother was groveling to keep her job to be a fake stripper. She was an act, a joke. A living breathing clown that gave birth to her and Tara wanted more than anything to run away from her—from this place.

"I won't be any trouble," Tara deadpanned storming out.

She felt the bouncer hulking behind her to make sure she was leaving quietly. Tara felt her legs moving toward the exit. She knew she was running toward fresh air. Sucking in the night's air she looked at the sky swallowing the scream that jogged around in her throat making it hard to say anything.

_Fuck_

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Eric stared out the window.

"Hell of a night," he belched.

Pam rolled down her car windows. She pulled up to his house and standing outside with a face drawn from sleep and worry Nora stood.

"Why the hell am I here?" he groused.

"Eric," Pam drew his name out in warning. She didn't want to babysit him tonight. When he drank he got horny. When he got horny he was relentless. Maybe a decade ago she would have been susceptible with a few drinks and given in. Not tonight—not when so many things happened so fast.

Lafayette said he'd wait outside for Tara when they got out of the office. They half expected the cops to come in and arrest her for assault, but none came. After ten minutes in the office Tara, followed by the bouncer who grabbed her, walked outside. Pam didn't want to leave Eric alone, so she didn't investigate. She thought Tara's reaction was strange. Strippers, every age and size, knew the risks of being in their profession.

When the male gamer came back inside to see if they had seen Tara she saw his face fall when she informed him she saw her go outside. There so many places she could be by now. Lafayette confessed he had never seen Tara upset enough to strike anyone, much less leave without warning.

Pam watched her blond haired best friend stumble from her car. Nora nodded to her in thanks. She remembered drunken Eric liked to have fun all night. Nora wouldn't be thanking her so much when she had trouble walking in the morning.

Choosing a name her phone dialed the number Lafayette gave her, "have you heard from her yet?"

"She's here with me."

Lafayette looked at Tara playing a video game. His roommate hadn't acknowledged that he was there. Even as he was talking about her in front of her Tara wouldn't be distracted from her game. Tara unhooked the Playstation 3 and in its place hooked up the Playstation 1 to play an old Crash Bandicoot game. This was child's play for Tara. The game wasn't demanding, but he supposed it was a mindless task to cope with the evening's events.

Tara hadn't said, but then she didn't need him to. She assaulted the patron to protect her mother.

"Is she ok?" Pam asked. It would be rude not to ask how she was when she seemed so upset earlier. The executive didn't know the details. She considered her concern was because it was courteous.

Lafayette responded that she would be. He hoped a good night's sleep would do her some good. He planted himself on the corner of the couch watching her progress as she raced the big headed doctor with the crooked mustache. The sounds were soothingly redundant. Unable to fight the sleep Tara wouldn't succumb to he drifted off.

Driving down the quiet highway very few cars passed by her on the opposite stretch. She took a detour in the country. She had stayed in city limits long enough to be of some help if Lafayette needed help looking for Tara. Now that she knew Tara was safe she headed home.


	6. Chapter 6

Bluetooth in ear Lafayette's number was ready to be dialed. The conversation went as far as 'how is she doing' in her head. But, Pam asked that question last night and it was answered. She looked down at the box of donuts she brought for breakfast. Surely, they were conversation worthy for the eventual lull in conversation. There was always a lull in conversation.

Pam put her phone away collecting the box warming the passenger seat of her Honda. Someone was kind enough to let her in with her pastry and cardboard cargo.

She reached her hand up to hit the door. In mid knock she realized they were sweaty. Furthermore the rhythm of her heart felt irregular; or rather it was beating too fast for the simple exertion of walking. She wouldn't take the stairs, not in these heels. The nervous symptoms left her worried for her health. It was a younger woman's disease, something that afflicted her all through her awkward years until she found its cure, confidence.

Shouldering confidence like a new Prada bag she knocked on the door. No answer. She heard noises beyond it so she knew someone was inside in. She knocked again. No answer. Maybe they left the television on.

All the scenarios in her head hadn't covered if they were gone. It was a Saturday. They probably were out having fun. Why had she been so concerned about Tara? Her behavior could just as well be blamed on too much alcohol. Though, when Eric bought shots Tara didn't seem intoxicated. She didn't even look interested in imbibing. Her eyes had wandered the room searchingly.

She knocked again harder this time much to the chagrin of her delicate knuckles. She promised herself if no one answered this time she'd leave and see her at work.

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Videogames now her profession, as a child they helped her escape. She remembered she didn't know how to express her anger. She knew she couldn't express it at school. One of her classmates a dark haired girl with big eyes and rosy cheeks started drawing monsters. The school and the police got involved and she was taken away. Tara loved Lettie Mae despite the constant disappointment she turned out to be. Tara didn't want to be taken away when there was still childlike hope to experience. Lettie Mae was Tara's disappointment like Gatsby's green light a beacon of a dream never to achieve, while her mother was not green, she just was. There was no changing her for the better if twenty eight years fucked her up even more.

Then there were the questions Tara wondered. What had she done wrong? Psychology books told her nothing that she wasn't coping with her mother's behavior in a positive way. She'd read extensively about the subject concluding science could give all the objective answers, but at the end of the day knowing didn't cure her. Tara could run from her mother. Avoid the problem. But, until she met it head on she was no better off than the dark haired girl with rosy cheeks drawing monsters to cope.

Lafayette was on the couch snoring behind her. The noise of the television calmed her. The mindless racing her hands moved on instinct to maneuver her digital characters. She knew the game well enough to move her hands by habit rather than skill.

She mistook the first knock at the door for something dropping in the kitchen. Then she realized someone was at the door. Lafayette was still sleeping. His head leaned back and mouth open folded into a ball at the corner of the couch. He forfeited his cozy bed to make sure she was ok. Tara hoped he never took up a profession where he had to watch someone for the night. He wouldn't make it. She appreciated that he loved her enough to attempt to watch over her.

The gamer tried her damndest to ignore the knocking. Saturday she liked to unwind and review the week in its entirety. Besides, Lafayette was the host of the duo. She definitely didn't feel up to entertaining. Then the knock came once more and she had a feeling whoever it was didn't get the hint. Tara stood up to spell it out for them.

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The door was yanked open. Pam stepped back from the abrupt force, but her mask fell into place as she scrutinized the condition of her-of her…..Never mind labels. Labels could always be changed and rearranged. They could be sorted out later the blond consoled herself.

Tara was on the offensive. Every insult or bad word that came to mind vanished when she discovered the identity of the persistent knocker.

"What are you doing here?"

Tara wasn't fit to take guests, but from Pam's perception Tara's general courteousness was something to be desired. She was brash and rude and kept everything out in the open.

"Donuts," she held up the box. The executive peeked passed her snoring roommate.

"Laced with…" Tara stared at the box with suspicion.

Pam wasn't about to spend her morning standing in the hallway. It took her fifteen minutes to get out of her car. And extra twenty to find a reason outside of general concern to be there hence her wait for a dozen donuts. It felt like an hour outside Tara's door, but she knew it may have only been three minutes. She invited herself in using the width of the box and Tara's paranoia the dark skinned woman back away from it like it had the cooties.

Tara watched Pam deposit the Krispy Kreme box on the table. The smell she had to admit was getting to her. She hoped her stomach didn't betray her and growl. From the corner of her eye Lafayette was stretching. He happened to turn his head seeking Tara out and ended up doing a silent double take when he noticed Pam.

He began mouthing words that Tara frowned at.

"I bought it as a real apology," Pam heard her say the dishonest words. Though, it sounded like a good enough to continue while she looked Tara over with a critical eye. "Have you slept?"

"You would impress me more if you said the words. Waltzing in here trying to buy forgiveness won't cut it."

"Ooooh, donuts," Lafayette reached for one of the glazed donuts in the left corner.

He sank his teeth in the warm goodness.

"Pam brought them."

The orgasm of the mouth was ruined by the news. Pam quirked her brow at his response and then she noticed the bouquet, the arrangement she sent, sitting in the window getting some light. She didn't see any sign of the box. They must have thrown it away.

"They are fine," she stated, "I came straight here from the bakery. And I was too concerned about Tara's well being to lace them with anything."

His mouth full of donut he began to chew slowly. He turned on his heel and headed to the bathroom anyway. Pam watched him curiously then her eyes went back to Tara, who looked terrible.

"Have you slept?" she reiterated realizing Tara had avoided the question.

The dark skinned woman rubbed at her eyes. She was prepared for Lafayette's questions and concerns. She'd shrug them off good naturedly. She'd pull them back into their regular banter avoiding a discussion about last night.

"No, I wanted to get some work done."

Pam's eyes had roamed the room. Answering question she might have asked when she got to know Tara better. She supported breast cancer awareness the blond acknowledge when she saw a magnet on the fridge with 'I love boobs'. She liked to acquaint herself with surroundings she wasn't formerly invited into.

"I wasn't aware there were any assignments for Crash Bandicoot, let alone one commissioned for Playstation 1."

Scratching the back of her neck Tara nodded her head at being found out, by a suit. What did she know about games outside of how to sell them?

"There are brains under this beauty," Pam countered when Tara was at a loss of how to reply.

"Preaching to the choir suga," Lafayette opening the fridge door leaning over to find something to go with his donuts.

Tara never claimed to have the best manners. If people knew her mother or her life they would be surprised that she had any at all. Though, she wasn't up to going head to head with two of the most stubborn people she knew. She opened the box of donuts, now that Lafayette tasted one, she knew they were safe.

She felt the warm water on the palm of her hand. The warmth of its touch or maybe it was the caring in Lafayette and the surprise of the measure of Pam's concern. Maybe it was because she hated and loved her mother and she knew last night wouldn't be the last time her mother fucked up. By whatever design of her physical and mental state she felt tears roll down her eyes. She knew it wasn't the water. Her body was shaking now, under the warm embrace of a shower. She wanted to clean herself. Rub away the club and her if she could have she would have taken her eyes and given them a good washing too. No one should ever see their mother, at that age, in a state of near undress. To be mocked openly by strangers for the sake of money.

Sliding down the wall she cried. She didn't wail for fear she would be heard and their eyes drowned in sympathy would be a little more than she could take.

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Still in the refrigerator Lafayette looked up long enough to watch Tara retreat in the bathroom. Taking out a bottle of water he found a plate and put another donut on it. The game was paused ready for the player when Tara was ready to return to it.

"That was nice of you and shit."

Pam eyed Lafayette. His mouth was still black, but in light of the situation she could ignore it. Tara didn't look well at all. She thought about the gamers' reaction last night. How strong it had been. She was guessing now, but if she were on the right track Lafayette would tell her, if not with words then by silent admission his body couldn't lie.

"I've found myself as an outsider looking in when it came to my mother."

Like she expected Lafayette's answered her. His face was solemn an expression that didn't fit him at all. He had so much energy and it seemed wasted to use it to think about unhappy things. Lafayette, with a critical eye, sized Pam up. She had come bearing gifts, but so did the fucking Greeks.

Yesterday's pranks disillusioned him to her apologies. Standing here he decided for himself what kind of woman she was. When Tara became Tara again she would start off where she left off with Pam. Because Tara was too hard headed to sniff out a lost cause, he had a strong feeling his mother had something to do with that. But, Pam was here and ready to be a shoulder if Tara needed it. Against his first thought and judged largely by his instincts over the past few hours—there was promise with this woman. Whether Tara and she became anything more than friends, they would at least establish a bond. It didn't worry Lafayette.

Pam noticed Lafayette wouldn't offer anything to fuel what she figured out.

"I love her."

Pam was taken aback by the declaration.

"I love her and that bitch hurts her just by living. And if I were the type to wish bitches dead she on the top of the list, but I was raised better than that. Now, I'm telling you I love Tara because I don't want to see her hurt by anybody else."

Pam caught his drift. "I noticed my fellow coworker upset and I brought sweets to cheer her up."

"If that's the story you sticking with," he leveled his eyes on her impassive mask. He didn't break policy and look up fell coworkers addresses to see if they were ok. Well, there was that one time, but Lafayette focused on Pam and not his past. He imagined her walls were as thick and determined as Tara's. Two stubborn ass women coming to each other's aid for one common goal—sounded like a film off his favorite guilty pleasure movie channel.


	7. Chapter 7

Two Weeks Later…..

The Pit was divided into three teams focused on beating specific levels in the C-verse II game. The game focused on characters, human slaves, from Earth fighting Aliens to get back to their home planet. Some levels shorter than others were easily beaten leaving idle hands and bored minds to wander.

"Who you see Wonder Woman with?"

"Is this strictly Marvel Universe, DC, what?"

"Free for all."

"Batman."

"She'd eat him alive."

"Superman?"

"With super stamina I can see that."

Using her voice in place of a buzzer Tara interrupted the conversation amongst nerds. She decided to explain using a little bit of lesbian logic.

"Why the fuck would she settle for either? The bitch has got access to an island of women."

The two gamers, who started the conversation, eyed the other unconvinced.

"She's clearly written as a heterosexual," Dylan stated.

"By heterosexual men for a narrow minded society—but everyone knows the majority of amazons are lesbians."

Jason swiveled his chair around. He could resist the conversation when it was two nerds, but Tara he felt was being biased. "Don't go making established characters lesbians because you think they should be."

"I know she's a lesbian. Just like I know she moonlights as a dominatrix." Tara pointed out that fact as if she had personally sat down the writers and they shared Diana's true back story.

Lafayette, who was determined to keep his mouth shut pauses his game, "I _gotta_ hear you're reasoning for this bitch."

Tara was the only one on her side. She took the information in stride now that she had a full audience, whether people decided to acknowledge they were listening or not. "_One_ she's already got a propensity for secret identities. _Two_ all she's needs is her uniform in black all the way down to the heels. _Three_ why the fuck are you carrying around a lasso if you don't have a bondage fetish?"

Lafayette didn't judge snapping his fingers, "you a freak."

"Alright, since you've obviously thought this through," Jason started, "who would she end up with looking at both males and females?"

"Male Green Lantern," Tara took a little more time to think, "female…Phoenix."

"Green Lantern over Superman?"

"Green Lantern uses his imagination in life threatening situations to save the world." She leaned back in her swivel chair. "Think about what he can do in a room alone with Wonder Woman—amazing fucking sex toys galore type shit. And Phoenix with her telekinesis," Tara held up her hands forming an imaginary window to her imagination. "Picture them sitting in the League of Justice and the X-Men are called in to help. Phoenix and Diana are eye fucking each other…their caught up in their lesbian sex fantasy during debriefing, giving them the perfect impetus to survive impending death."

Silence.

Tara looked to see if she changed any minds or made them think.

"That's kinda hot when you think about it," Jason offered. Some red faced nerds turned around not wanting to agree aloud, even though their blushes spoke for them.

"If you're into that kind of thing," Lafayette countered.

Tara put on her jacket, "_I'm _into that kind of thing."

"You haven't asked me to make you lunches for two weeks."

"So?"

"Where you going?"

"Pineapple Café."

"Where you met the Umbrella bitch?"

"I love their honey mustard wrap," Tara defended weakly. Naomi was a chapter in her life that was firmly closed, but Lafayette being the friend that he is liked to keep tabs on her.

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Eric knocked on his best friend's door.

Pam looked up from closing out a window on her computer. "Eric," she greeted. She hadn't been expecting him.

"Are you in or out?" he asked cryptically.

"For?" she pushed him out before he could sit down and get comfortable, she liked to make the most of her hour breaks especially now with company.

He shook his head following her down the hallway to the elevators. A short woman with dimples held the door open for them to catch it. Pam had never been eager about her responsibilities as maid of honor and Nora was specifically worried. Pam being in the wedding was Eric's idea that she warmed up to. "This weekend with Nora."

"No."

"You're not living up to your duties," Eric said petulantly. He wanted Pam involved not just for his sake. Nora was insecure around the striking blond. He reasoned getting to know each other would ease her insecurities helping her to be more comfortable around Pam.

The only other occupant looked straight ahead as if she wasn't listening.

"Duties?"

"As my best friend," he leaned into her hear, "maid of honor to my future bride."

"If I'm lax then feel free to choose someone else for it," she turned her head their head were barely an inch apart. "I guarantee you won't find anyone with an inch of my patience to deal with your shit."

The elevator bell rang. The dimpled stranger stepped out with a quiet 'excuse me'. It closed leaving Eric and Pam in the elevator. He reached his hands around the blond's waist, pulling her to him.

"You've gone and gotten yourself a new play toy and you don't have time for your old ones."

"Been there done that Eric," turned her head eying him pointedly. "I'm going to lunch."

"Great I'm starving." He recovered from her rejection clapping his hands excitedly as he stood at her side looking at the reflective doors.

"It's a lunch date."

"Maybe it's time for you to remember how fun threesomes can be."

She glared at him when the doors opened to the parking garage.

"I promise I'll be good," he held up his assumed sign for boy scouts. Ever since that day Nora excitedly told him about this woman Pam introduced her to, he'd been curious about her. The few answers he could get out of Pam were minor details. Nothing juicy, and that only made him more interested why Pam was being so reserved with the details. She was good enough to be seen with in public. He was willing to bet this Tara person was her date for lunch.

"It's cause she's black isn't it."

Tara leaning against a pillar stopped in mid text. She heard Pam approaching with someone else whose voice she didn't recognize.

"What?" that halted Pam's determined strides. She hadn't told him who she was lunching with so the words were nothing if not surprising.

Eric smiled continuing, "I know you've got a thing for women of the chocolate persuasion."

"I do not."

Pam started walking again unlocking her car. She was too engaged to notice she'd passed Tara.

"Do too," Eric shot back with equal petulance.

"I do not."

Tara cleared her throat. Eric leaned on the top of the car which was easy for his hulking height. He wore a smile that reached his eyes and Tara couldn't help returning it—he recognized her from the strip club. Pam on the other hand had opened her car door, but that was as far as she'd gotten. She was scared to turn around.

"I for one would love to hear the rest of this conversation, but can we do it over lunch?" Tara came up closer opening the back seat door on the driver's side. Pam didn't bother glancing back and just sat in the car wishing away her blush to no avail.

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Mortified described the feeling that inched a blush on Pam's face. It was a new expression for Tara to study and she found it incredibly adorable on the normally poised blond.

Eric volunteered to pay to get back in the good graces of his friend. Though, Pam didn't seem at all appeased. Lunches were usually livelier than it was. Pam found herself subdued letting Tara and Eric take the lead. Fortunately, they didn't steer toward her as the only topic of conversation. The blond sat in relative silence taking both of her friends in. After two weeks of having lunch almost every day together she could give them that title.

They rarely ventured to do anything else. Pam Tara discovered lived a very boring life if she wasn't doing anything with Eric, who fought tooth and nail to get her out of the house. She was a driven woman and that came with some sacrifices to her personal life. She reconciled with the loneliness in the early part of her career with promises she would try for love later. She thought of going out to more clubs, but a few interesting experiences killed the idea. She attracted the wrong type of men and women.

She didn't notice when Naomi came to their table and neither did the engaged duo discussing fidelity.

"Hey" Naomi walked over with flyers in hand.

Eric sized her up with appreciative gaze, "I'm Eric," he held his hand out. Naomi hands him a flyer never taking her eyes off of Tara.

"Hi," Pam drawled.

Naomi gave her a slight nod.

"Who is Annie's Raging Clitoris?" Eric read the name on the flyer. The illustration was a woman screaming holding her bra up in the air.

"Interesting illustration," Pam noted when Eric handed it to her.

"My band, we're playing tonight a small garage party tonight," Naomi offered then her gaze fixed on Tara again, "you should come, the girls ask about you all the time."

"Naomi," the high pitched greeting didn't denote how unhappy he was to see his roommate's ex-girlfriend. He had hoped against hope that she wasn't the reason Tara was coming back to the café. When they broke up she swore the place off vowing never to eat there for as long as she lived.

The singer pursed her lips greeting Lafayette with a half hearted wave. She knew he never liked her. She couldn't say liked him that much either.

Taking off his shades he folded them his hand standing between Tara and Naomi, "Your ass had better be here for that nasty ass honey mustard wrap you like." He was talking to Tara, but he kept his eyes trained on Naomi.

"I am," Tara stated.

"Look I know she's in a relationship," Naomi started, "feel free to bring a friend Tara," she would have given the dark woman one last look, but Lafayette stood in her way. He didn't move until the door closed behind her and he saw her disappear around the corner of the building.

"Relationship? Who the fuck is you dating? And why the fuck I gotta find out from Umbrella bitch?"

"Nobody," Tara looked up at Pam. The executive was relatively silent throughout the entire exchange.

"She came in here with that bull dyke and I panicked so I begged some chick to pose as my girlfriend."

"Uh huh," there was more to the story if this was his first time hearing about it. "Was she cute?"

"The bull dyke?"

"No bitch the one you asked to pose as your girlfriend."

"I don't remember," Tara shrugged biting into a waffle fry to hide the smile that would betray her nonchalance.

Eric jumped in, "she was cute."

Pam's watched Tara with interest as she sipped from her straw. The discussion of the kiss never happened. It was an act of kindness and nothing more in Pam's opinion. She was out of practice so she was interested to hear how she was.

"How was the kiss?" Pam asked innocently.

Tara choked on her fry. Grabbing her container she and drank some water.

"It was that good?" Lafayette teased.

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_Authors note_: The wonder woman conversation is based off a conversation I was nerdy enough to have. I love that you all love how it's going so far. I'm a writer so I'm a sucker for detail and the bits where the majority of you pick out your favorite parts I like. I'm having fun I bet you can tell!


	8. Chapter 8

Two fucking weeks and she'd never mentioned it. Two fucking weeks Tara kept the kiss a secret to herself basking in the memory of impressive lips kissing her an unforgettable way. Now with three pairs of eyes checking her for how she felt about it—it was disconcerting. Even more so with the object of her long time affections staring at her waiting for answer that might very well ruin the slight friendship they built over a two week period.

She could pretend to keep choking. No, Lafayette would see through it and she would be forced to look to talk about it anyway. News was something she couldn't deny her Lafayette. Only because he was a relentless pain in the ass if he thought she was holding out on him. She sipped from her straw stalling for more time, but they were all getting impatient. She might as well bite the bullet.

"I don't remember."

"Bullshit."

Pam quirked her brow, "the kiss wasn't memorable?"

The quirked brow was in disbelief. Surely Pam didn't expect her to say the real answer. Lafayette would camp out at Pineapple Café until he met this mystery woman if he thought Tara was remotely interested.

"Don't listen to this bitch." Lafayette pulled up a chair and commandeered Tara's waffle fries. The fries were about the only thing he liked here. "She likes to downplay shit. She's afraid I'll meddle since she hasn't been with a woman since umbrella bitch."

"I'm interested in why you call her Umbrella bitch," Eric pointed out curiously.

Before Lafayette could answer feeling her pride was on the line Pam ignored it for the question that Tara seemed determined to avoid. "What was wrong the kiss?"

"Nothing," Tara shrugged eying Pam pointedly to drop the subject.

"I think you owe it to the person you kissed to be honest about how it was."

"Why when the woman I kissed isn't here."

"What if you see her again and she asks?"

"She won't ask."

Eric and Lafayette honed in the conversation going back and forth with their heads like they would if watching a tennis match. Neither man knew for certain, but there was a hint of something in the air. It was floating over their heads teasing them with a clue to what was going on between these women.

Neither woman made friends lightly. But they complimented each other well in temperament. Tara was the more passionate of the two while Pam had a poised reserve that could be considered snobbish at times. Their childhoods prepared them for the women they were now and as difficult as they were—they had turned out better than most might expect.

"Pretend I'm the woman you kissed."

Tara's eye widened. She looked at Eric and Lafayette, who didn't look as if they realized how true the statement was.

Pam continued, "Tell me how you feel," she changed the last word to felt when she realized how it may have sounded. Pam was always inquisitive. She liked to the power of information. Not that she would use it to her advantage against Tara, but this was more for her ego.

"I uh….she—"

Pam shook her head, "not she, me. I'm the one that kissed you remember."

Tara fixed it with Pam's correction, "You," she breathed. Where the hell did she start?

She thought about the kiss. The unexpected wonder in the pit of stomach jump started her heart into a quick rhythm. The fingers that she felt in her skin, she remembered sitting in Pam's car feeling the heat of her hand still on her skin even though Tara knew it was imagined. She was aware of everything and then she wasn't because Pam's lips took precedence over making her ex-girlfriend jealous. Fuck her ex-girlfriend and the café and the world outside of it. Tara had the answer to the meaning of life in Pam's kiss. But, that was too intense to say. Pam had a gift for keeping her face impassive. Tara doubted that gift would withstand such an intimate revelry.

"You," she started again, "…I know it was pretend, but you kissed me, and I felt like I knew you—every lie, every pain, every joy and I wanted to know more. Then you stopped kissing me. I wanted more and if we hadn't been in public place and I was sure you wouldn't call the cops on me I would have grabbed you for another one."

_Shit_. That didn't sound like a generic description. It sounded fucking life changing. Tara either underestimated Pam's mask or Pam genuinely could be bothered with surprise or feeling for that matter.

Eric was the first to break the ice. "Shit someone kissed you and you felt like that?" He didn't even remember his first kiss with Nora.

Tara felt uncomfortable. _Shit_ she forgot they had an audience. She was afraid to take in Lafayette's expression. Ever since the Naomi incident he claimed Tara was afraid to get hurt. She recalled saying that she wasn't. But, Lafayette wouldn't hear of it. It took four disastrous dates one ending in almost getting into a brawl with her date's ex. That last incident stopped his attempts to get her involved with someone.

"Shits settled then…we find this mystery girl."

This got a shocked reaction out of Pam. It wasn't a wide mouthed and bulgy eyed look, that look didn't fit Pam. Her eyes narrowed and her mouth opened slightly, so slightly if Tara hadn't been staring she would have missed it.

"What do you mean?" the executive asked curiously. She took the bill and slid it over to Eric when the waitress dropped it off.

Lafayette watched the bouncy waitress walk away and clued them in on the genius plan he'd only just thought of.

"We're going to find this mystery girl."

Tara shook her head, "hell no."

"Hell yes and you better make peace with that shit," Lafayette pinched the air to silence her, "Cause you in love bitch."

Lafayette had to be stopped at all costs. Now he was making accusations about love in the company of the woman she was supposed to be in love with. How the hell could they go out to lunch again with this hanging over their heads?

"It was a stupid kiss," she tried to explain; "you know what I remember it better now. I was one of the worst kisses I've ever had."

"You remember my artist friend, "he didn't wait for Tara to acknowledge whether she knew him or not. "He does work for the cops. I know it's been two weeks, but you think you can remember what she looks like?"

"Lafayette."

The man ignored the warning in Tara's voice. He was in his own world now. "Then you remember that printer guy I was dating," then he thought better of it, "He had the mole in that spot that fucking grossed me out, never mind. We can find another printer." He stood putting his shades back on.

"Lafayette."

"Tara," he responded with an equally obstinate glare she could barely make out through his shades. She knew it was there though. It was his signature look when he wouldn't be fucked with. The conversation of this mystery woman had marinated too long and now he was fixated on getting Tara with her.

"What if she's a serial killer and keeps bodies of dead husbands under floor boards. Even worse what if she ties me to a bed and goes Misery on my ass," Tara's quick thinking was in vain. Her roommate couldn't be moved from his quest for her to find love.

"You're one of the best judges of character."

"I've been wrong before. Naomi."

"Bitch you have me as your best friend. That's one of the best decisions you've ever made. Besides you never talked about Naomi's kisses like that."

Tara was lost in a large and wide ocean of embarrassment. She could swim in any direction, but it wouldn't make a difference. She was soaked without a life jacket.

Eric wasn't what one might consider a romantic, but he encouraged the idea. Lafayette turned to Pam to ask her what she thought. Tara's head was in her hands, but she waited for her reply with anxiety dancing in the pit of her stomach.

"One kiss isn't a lot to go on," she decided that practicality was the prudent weapon. "Tara's right she could be insane."

"Sometimes a kiss is all you need to know," he answered cryptically. "You don't mind if I take Tara with me do you?" he already had a hand pulling her from her seat.

The despondent gamer frowned. She would have protested more if she didn't feel like sitting in the back seat of the car of the woman Lafayette was determined to make her match. How had things gotten so out of control? Her roommate was an avid romantic. She hated watching TV with him because he was bound to pull out something too sentimental for words. Sometimes they were amusing to watch, the plots were so real and intimate, and as the audience you hope you're life will turn out the same way. Tara seemed to have gotten her wish with Lafayette as the fairy godmother in this fairytale upside down and all wrong.

Pam shook her head, "not at all."

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"I'm lucky to have a friend like you who isn't obsessed with my sex life."

Eric thought about her comment as they sat at stop light behind a green SUV. "I think I should be."

Pam glared one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on the driver side door where the window starts. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Well since Tara's taken you're going to need a date for the wedding."

"I don't need a date for the wedding. And Tara's not taken."

"She sounded pretty taken with the woman she kissed. You know anything about that?"

"It was a kiss with a stranger. How taken can someone be over one fucking kiss?" she strained moving the car forward slowly along with the rest of the traffic. "And no I don't know anything about it."

The tall blond settled into the comfortable cushions of his friend's car. His mind on Nora and the wedding, he knew he asked her because he thought he was ready. He'd promised himself after marriage he'd be faithful, but he knew himself better than that. Maybe that promise might last on the day of the wedding with distractions, but afterward he wasn't so sure. Pam knew him best and despite her agreeing to be in his wedding she wasn't his greatest advocate, with good reason. How much had he grown since college?

"You think I should get married?"

"I think you're going to get married. You're going to be happy for a little while. You might even be faithful for a day. But I give you're marriage three months," she stated changing lanes to take them back to her office.

"You've been thinking about how long I'm going to sabotage my marriage?" He wasn't surprised. Pam was always more practical to think ahead. The years and no romance to open up her mind to possibilities kept her in a bubble of logic, she clung to in every part of her life.

"I've got a pool going someone even gave you guys a year," she teased.

Eric turned his head to the window watching the outside world disappear and the cool surface of cement surround them as they pulled into the garage. Pam dropped her thin smile, "I'm teasing."

"I know. But maybe we should start getting serious about love," he pointed out resting his head on the rest behind him when Pam parked.

Pam frowned stopping her car. "I think you're serious about it for both of us. You are walking down the aisle in a month."

Eric's heart sped up at the news. Nora reminded him everyday. Watching her do the most mundane things he thought he might have a heart attack. When he considered all her habits mundane and otherwise annoying would be his for a lifetime. Had he felt that in the first kiss with Nora that he wanted all of her in one moment?

"You think they'll find her?"

"Who knows," Pam answered with forced flippancy.


	9. Chapter 9

Pam waited long enough before she called Tara's extension. When she didn't get an answer she waited twenty more minutes then she took the elevator to The Pit. Tara wasn't there. She was informed that Tara and Lafayette had called it an early day, having most of their assignments finished already. She hadn't turned on her heel before she pulled out her cell phone. She received no messages.

Where was she?

The thought crossed her mind to text the dark haired woman, but then what would prove she was desperate. And Pam wasn't desperate. She was curious, inquisitive, a hungry mind for truth. Maybe she sought it more fervently because the matter of personal importance. No, it wasn't maybe. She cared about her performance. She was thinking about jumping into the dating world again. What if she found someone that she liked? What if they were her perfect match and she ruined it over a kiss? Yes, those were valid reasons to explain her determination. She frowned visibly in the elevator when she stepped in with a mail clerk holding a long cardboard box.

He smiled in return, but she was too lost in thought to notice.

It wasn't like she was interested in Tara. Eric's comments about chocolate persuasion made her frown deepen.

The bell dinged and the elevator doors slid open. She stepped out heading straight for her office. She saw Sam smiling by her window when she went inside.

"Mr. Merlotte."

The salt and pepper haired man beamed when she greeted him, "hey."

Pam's eyes went to the outside where she knew her employees were watching. She closed the door behind her. "What's wrong?"

Sam's smile fell into a sedate line, "nothing, I came here to ask you that question."

Pam shook her head going around to her desk taking a seat. Her boss decided to stand. "My team has been meeting deadlines. There have been some bumps in the proverbial road, but nothing I can't handle."

"I meant with The Pit. More specifically Tara."

The executive nodded in understanding. She was touched that Sam was checking up on her, but since the meeting in his office there had been no problems and she told him as much. She didn't go so far in detail to share they'd been having lunch together for weeks.

He smiled again at the news. "Good," he took a few steps to the door then he stopped. Turning he took Pam in, "you know you can't blame them."

The blond was looking at her phone for any messages. She was on the verge of sending one when Tara's name popped up. She had enough forethought to respond and even look up when she heard Sam speak, "I don't know what you mean."

"The nerds, I own a company and I still sometimes forget how to act with a beautiful woman."

Pam's finger hovered over Tara's message itching to open it. She nodded her head at Sam's explanation. She knew was attractive, not in a conceited way. Symmetry, line, she pointed out aesthetically pleasing things all the time for her job. She wasn't a model, but she knew that she could have her pick of men and women if only they were brave enough to approach her. She was impressed when someone took the initiative and said what was on their mind.

"Thank you Sam."

"Don't thank me, come to dinner with me."

"Dinner?"

It was the most intelligent word she could come up with to say.

"Food, wine, conversation about life, philosophies, favorite colors," he put on his most charming smile.

Sexual harassment didn't come to mind. Sam had always been kind and showed her nothing but respect. He didn't have the wandering eyes like her best friend. She'd seen him at business socials with a date and he kept his eyes and his hands to himself. He didn't carry himself like an entitled cad, which so many men in position used to accessorize with their thousand dollar suits.

Sam knew it was unorthodox, but Pam was a beautiful woman. She was witty and reserved an attractive reserve that didn't imply a boring partner. He knew she was intelligent. When he stole her all those years ago from that firm in Atlanta his attraction had begun. Unfortunately, voicing it might have scared her away and a working relationship needed to be developed.

"Dinner," she stated as a fact now. A bubble popped up on her phone for a new message.

"Yes."

"Yes."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxx

Lafayette had gone off the deep end. He was obsessed. And he wasn't above recruiting help to find this woman Tara didn't want him to find. She was playing her video game when the doorbell rang. She looked at her phone one last time before shot got up. Tara texted Pam, but the blond hadn't answered back.

"Hey Jason," Tara left the door swinging so he could come inside.

"Hey," he followed her shutting the door with his food since his hands were full.

"What the hell is all that?"

"Lafayette," he began in explanation, "said it's for you."

Picking up her phone and put it up on the counter just in case it vibrated. On the floor she might not have been able to hear it. She ignored how her actions may have looked. She didn't have the luxury of being the outsider looking in.

"What the hell Jason?"

She stared at the entire contents he brought over in a box. Tape, markers, eleven by thirteen colorful sheets of paper a scanner and more paper. Before the blond could answer Lafayette came bouncing in wearing his cucumber mask.

"Don't get your panties in a twist cause Jason came to see me."

"Take it down a notch bitch. I'm more concerned about this arts and crafts shit."

"These are tools," he stroked the box looking inside. "We're going to find you love."

"You're fucking with me right?"

"Dead serious hookah. I want you happy. And this mystery woman is just the thing."

"Was she hot?"

Both eyes turned to Jason. The dark man had explained Tara's predicament. Jason was inspired as soon as he got off work and procured some supplies from the supply cabinet he went home to pick up his scanner. Lafayette informed him he owned a printer.

Lafayette interrupted before she could fuck up the positive atmosphere with more negative comments. "Gorgeous."

"You didn't see her," Tara stated incredulously.

"You've got good tastes honey. It's about the only thing of mine that's rubbed off on your stubborn ass."

"Fuck you."

"Save it for the blond."

Tara's eyes narrowed, "how'd you know she was blond?"

"I didn't," he smiled smugly, "but now I do."

"Bitch."

Lafayette laughed in response as she stomped away.

Tara slammed her room door. She should have gone back to the office. She laid down on the only piece of furniture in her room, her couch. Lafayette hated it. Tara liked it. It was the story of their dynamic. She'd caught it on sale. Beds were larger and implied permanence. Tara chose a couch instead it was less intimidating. Lafayette didn't mind her explanation he just hated the couch.

When she was younger she shared a bed with her mother. Tara had her own room; her mother had never gotten around to buying her one. The church helped them to find hand me down furniture which included a bed. For reasons that Tara was still unsure about, Lettie Mae didn't answer the door when they delivered the twin bed. The church helpers left it outside and when Tara came home from school, the brand new bed, she'd been hoping for, was outside in the rain soaked and ruined. Her mother was inside smoking a cigarette staring out the window. She had a front row seat to view the soggy mess, and she wasn't ashamed to be seen staring at it with Tara cold and wet looking at her with imploring eyes.

"You can't always get what you want," her mother told her. Tara still remembered Lettie Mae leaning on the wall looking outside. Her posture wasn't resigned it was apathetic. Tara knew her mother hadn't tried to save it.

A hand behind her head she thought about how that one moment had ruined so many things for her. She stopped sleeping in her mother's bed because she would wake up wet from her mother messing herself. Her mother was either too drunk or too lazy to get up and go the bathroom.

Tara got accustomed to the couch. _You can't always get what you want_. After finding dead end jobs she found one she loved. She had love for a time, but it was short lived. Lafayette, overbearing and loud, was her best friend and she didn't see that changing any time soon. Her mother had been partly wrong and she rejoiced silently for that.

"You're phone ringing hookah!"

Tara shot up, but turned her sprint into a sluggish walk before Lafayette could catch the scent of her enthusiasm. She knew the number answering the phone. Heading back in her room she informed Pam that Lafayette was a force that wouldn't be stopped. He was making flyers as they spoke.

"You're going to let him?" Pam asked drumming her fingers on her desk.

"The alternative is the truth, and I'm sure you don't want that getting out. It's better if one of us suffers."

"How sweet of you," the words came out softer than Pam intended.

"You still at work?" Tara in the privacy of her room didn't check her smile.

Pam looked at her tidy desk. She was going to be leaving in a few minutes. She had to get ready for her date. It occurred to her to tell Tara this, but she decided against it, for reasons she didn't analyze.

"Yes, hard at work you know me."

Tara chuckled, "yea." Over the past two weeks she had gotten to know the blond very well. Tara enjoyed the older woman's wit and her mannerisms. She liked Pam. She like liked Pam. There was no way she could tell the executive and still be friends with her. She would scare the woman off. So she like liked Pam in silence, treating every moment with her with giddy elation, Tara would muse over after every lunch.

"You talked to the sketch artist yet?" she swiveled her chair so that she was staring out the window she found Sam looking out of when she came in.

Tara's finger plucked a piece of lint off of her knee. "No, he won't be coming until tomorrow. Lafayette promised him a six pack of beer," Tara added that little tidbit if only to keep the conversation going.

"Big spender," Pam drawled.

"Only the best for me," Tara joked.

Economic backgrounds might have been a challenge for two people that weren't Tara and Pam. They were each surprised how well they got along. Pam more than Tara considering she had high standards even in casual conversation—she hated awkward silences. She hated talking passionately about a book or a designer to receive blank stares or halfhearted nods of interest. Tara was genuine. She had an opinion about everything. She liked that even though they were more often than not on opposite sides.

"_Your_ night seems more exciting than mine," the blond intentionally misled her.

"Monks nights are more exciting than yours. You should let me take you out somewhere?"

Pam stood up to close the blind to her window, "a garage party to make your ex-girlfriend even more jealous?"

Tara laughed even though it didn't sound like such a bad idea. She liked spending time with Pam, the woman made her smile just by being in the room. Tara's smiled dropped. She needed to reign in these emotions, "no, your work is more important. I think I'll go though."

"Why?" Pam asked brusquely.

"To get the hell away from Lafayette," she joked, but went on to explain she liked the rest of the band. She hadn't been out in a long time and it didn't hurt to have a few hours to unwind from playing video games all day.

"I should get back to work," Pam lied having shut her computer down for the day.

"Yea ok," the conversation was too short for her liking. "See you Monday."


	10. Chapter 10

Pam didn't go into the date wary. Several conversations prior to this date denoted how articulate Sam was. They talked about art mostly, her favorite topic. She didn't know Sam read up on a few artists for the occasion. He was her boss, but he wanted to make an impression that dropped the invisible wall of policy. Pam was a woman that liked to see things a certain way. She saw them that way because it made sense and no more than her, he noticed, liked order. He thought of it as one of her more endearing qualities.

They talked into the evening over a dinner of lobster and chocolate desserts. She smiled at his jokes and he thought he even managed a giggle. Things were going a lot better than he planned.

"You look beautiful tonight," he said as he sent off his card with the waiter. Pamela was stunning with her hair hanging over her left shoulder wearing her J. Crew Silk Organza Melanie Dress.

"You mentioned that."

"Because it's as true as it was in the beginning of the night.

He liked how she was so confidant with her looks. Plenty of dates made him wait while they primped in the bathroom too many times to enjoy a fluent conversation. Not Pam, not confidant sexy Pam.

"This was pleasant," she offered when he pulled out her chair.

They took separate cars and met at the Italian restaurant she wasn't entirely sure Sam knew was one of her favorites. She wouldn't mind coming to lunch here with Tara, but she wasn't sure how she would feel about the atmosphere. It wasn't as laid back as the Pineapple Café and the prices weren't nearly as affordable for her.

"I'm happy that I wasn't a disappointing date."

"Disappointing date?" asked with a disbelieving drawl. "I'm sure you don't get that a lot."

"No, but it's a compliment coming from you."

Pam opened her car door. She turned and smiled at Sam's respectful distance. He wanted to lean in and kiss her, but it was too soon in her opinion. She liked him, but she wasn't sure if it was the kind of like that could develop into a romance.

"Thank you."

"Thank you," he returned.

"Good night."

He closed the door behind her when she got in. He stood watching her drive off and then turned to his own car with a spring in his step. He didn't want to seem too eager or over confidant, but he couldn't help the hopeful feeling in hearing Pam's praise of their date.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxx

"Well well well," Sookie jumped on Tara's back in greeting.

The dark skinned woman recovered enough to keep her balance, "now I know why I stopped hanging around you bitches." Her cup of beer fell to the ground. The liquid splashed on her shoes. The other musicians only laughed at Tara's predicament. Sookie was just happy to see her friend and true to her nature she showed it.

"Oops."

The petite blond was a waitress by day and a rocker by night and all trouble every moment of her life. She was the drummer. Situated in the back she made sure that she was noticed by everyone that saw her band play.

"Onward!" Sookie pointed onward.

Tara could carry her easily enough. It was the fact that the large crowd didn't look like they wanted to make way for the women. Sookie was already uncoordinated drunk, but that was supposedly how she played best. The blond kept a firm grip of her friend as Tara carried her around the party. Managing bodies, nasty glares and steps Tara and her cargo made it unscathed to the kitchen to the keg. The crowd was predominately ethnically diverse young crowd of baby lesbians.

Backing up to the counter she dropped Sookie on the top. Turning the blond had two cups in her hand that she filled herself.

"Where you been bitch?" she spoke loud over the other conversations and the music. They were waiting on Naomi to arrive, so the host played an alternative music on their playlist for now.

"Work," she answered sipping from her cup.

She hated when Tara went all one syllable on her. Naomi was a touchy subject for Tara, but that was the real reason she hadn't seen her around. No one knew the details, but they figured the lead singer fell into old habits when Tara was replaced by a new face. The band took it in stride. Naomi wouldn't listen if they tried to talk sense into her when it came to what was best for her.

"Dating anybody?"

Sookie went for the jugular her eyes scanning the crowd for a pretty face to tempt Tara's fancy.

"No." Tara glared pointedly.

The blond answered her with an innocent look. "Why you staring at me like that?"

"No."

"Tara…" she dragged out the taller woman's name with a smile. "You just ignore all this mix of young, supple specimens with female parts?"

Tara drank from her cup again trying to hide her smile, "I just came to hear you guys play."

"If that's what you're sticking to…" the blond trailed off. She realized, "where's my boyfriend?"

Tara shrugged.

"I thought you two were joined at the hip."

"Not tonight."

Sookie grabbed Tara's hand and pulled her outside. The house was getting too crowded for her tastes. She didn't know the name of the hostess. The band didn't put her in charge of things that needed to be remembered. She played the ditzy blond well, but Tara knew it was an act that she indulged in. Sookie was a smart woman that enjoyed being underestimated. A fellow underachiever in a world of overachievers as the blond coined one evening when they were drunk.

Tara's phone vibrated. She looked at the number a smiled washed over her face. She tried to kill it before Sookie could inquire about its source, but it was too late. Sookie grabbed the phone answering it.

"Hello!"

"Give me the phone," Tara rushed.

Pam frowned on the other end with a slow and unsure hello. She didn't know who this voice belonged to.

"Tara," Sookie struggled to speak as through her giggling and panting. She tried to get away from Tara so she could talk with this mystery woman in peace. "This is Tara's phone," she laughed, "she's too drunk to come to the phone righ—"

Tara snatched the cell away interrupting Sookie.

"Hey," Tara greeted more forcefully than she would have liked. "Hey," she added softly heading to the opposite side of the street.

"Am I interrupting something?" Pam eyed the red of the stop light as she put on her brakes.

"Yea, you just leave the office?" Tara noticed the time with concern.

Pam ignored the question. "I was calling to make sure you were ok. Being around your girlfriend I know it makes you uncomfortable."

Tara scratched the cheek as she shook her head at Sookie's antics from the other side of the street. She was grinding against a woman Tara doubted she knew. Watching the scene unfold she realized the redhead glaring and starting in the drummer's direction might be the girlfriend of the woman she was grinding against.

"Thats…shit…." she crossed street barely missing the car speeding by. Jogging the distance to the angry woman and Sookie with a shit eating grin Tara stepped in the middle. Why did she do that? The angry redhead swung. Tara didn't see the fist trying to get Sookie out of the potentially volatile situation.

"Tara!"

Pam stared at the phone. She'd heard everything then had grown increasingly worried with the indecipherable sounds and Tara's silence. Was she ok? She stared at the phone and tried to call back, but there was no answer.

Her gaze dropped to the mat. Eric had left Naomi's flyer in her car. She put the venue for the garage party's address in her GPS. Surprisingly she was only fifteen minutes away according to the machines calculations. The party was in her part town, in the country.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxx

The blond pulled up several cars parked on the side of the street. The house was a two story ranch style home. The gathering of young women in hoodies or revealing outfits were to Pam's expectation. She barely knew any of her neighbors. This event looked to be the work of teenage mind however. Pam parked as close as she could and walked the rest of the way in her favorite pumps. She glared at the shoes as the prints of her heels followed her in mud. She was going to kill Tara if she wasn't dead already. She passed her home on the way here. Why had she come so urgently? Tara was probably fine and having drunken fun.

Even still she preferred the certainty of knowing rather than the assumption. Pam wanted to be sure she was safe. If Tara was ok she would have called back wouldn't she?

Ignoring the looks of interest, Pam realized she was overdressed for the occasion. She had thought about stopping then changing, but she didn't want to waste any time if Tara was in trouble. She looked forlornly at her shoes.

"You still into blonds?" Sookie asked Tara. The lead singer held a bag of peas to her eye.

Naomi glared at Sookie as she leaned over inspected Tara's head.

"What makes you think I was ever into blonds?"

"I know you had a thing for me," she replied keeping her eyes on the woman, "I know you're not over me," she pat Tara's shoulder with a consoling hand. "But I see someone who might be able to distract you from your crush," Sookie toyed.

Naomi's girlfriend stood by the rest of the band waiting for their drummer and Sookie to stop doting over Tara so they could play. The gamer told them several times she was fine. Though, neither woman was convinced.

The singer followed Sookie's line of sight and visibly frowned. She smashed the bag of ice in Tara's face making the woman howl in pain. The sound caught Pam's attention.

The crowd split for the staggering executive if only to get a clear view of the beauty passing by them. She stopped and leaned over Tara examining her condition. "What happened?"

"Nothing," Tara glared at Naomi who rejoined the band.

Pam noticed it and then turned an unforgiving glare toward the woman she saw leaving Tara's side. "Did she do this?"

"No," Tara stood stopping Pam. One hand on the peas for her eyes while the other hand held onto Pam. They were an interesting looking pair. "She didn't."

"Then—"

"I just stepped in the middle of something I shouldn't have," Tara knew she wouldn't be fine with vague answer, but she hurried the answer out anyway. "You didn't have get all dolled up on account of me," Tara pulled the bag away from her eye admiring the dress.


	11. Chapter 11

Saved by the music—whatever answer Pam was on the verge of sharing was drowned out by the first chord of a bass guitar. The crowd shifted closer to the garage opening. Pam shrank away from the boisterous bodies, mindful that her dress might cost more than most of their outfits. Tara shot forward in a protective stance. Grabbing Pam's wrist she moved her to the right following a path made by a gap of absent bodies. Pressing her closer they got a better view of the band following the flow of forms.

Their music could be described as alternative rock. Naomi stroked the microphone stand like she would stroke her lover. Tara remembered how enamored she'd been with her ex lover's performances. The dark skinned woman forgot how good the band was. Naomi may have sucked as a girlfriend, but she was a great performer, too good for these garage parties. She knew Naomi well enough to predict how the night would end. Most gigs, Naomi's adrenaline was pumping, to heighten that excitement celebratory sex was their unspoken agreement.

Pam looked at the gamer who nodded her head to the vibrant beat. The executive was grateful for the distraction from her dress. Tara knew she what she wore at work. How could have not considered it before she came? Pam trained her gaze on the young women. Most were tattooed and had interestingly positioned piercings. She even saw one shaved head. She inched closer to Tara if only to be closer to something she understood. She kept that in mind when she closed her hand around Tara's.

Tara felt her phone vibrate. She pulled it out and opened Lafayette's message. Her eyes bulged. Grabbing Pam's hand she pulled her closer then went up the steps to the kitchen. The kitchen and the path were covered in a mess that including a bra or two Pam noticed. The blond stepped over plastic and paper cups and bottles. Her face folded in the mess. She had had enough of loud music and Tara informed her that there were still three more songs to play before the hostess decided to end the party. That was three songs too long in Pam's opinion.

"Look," dragging her eyes from the disaster of a home Pam moved her head up to Tara's outstretched arm.

"What the hell is that?"

It reminded Pam of the illustrations for fairytales. The title, Mystery Kisser, was hand drawn and darkened to stand out from the hand drawn Cinderella inspired carriage and pumpkin vines. The words were too small to read, but there was enough of the image to conclude he was more serious than she imagined finding her.

While Tara held her phone out the other was busy making herself a drink. She turned when she heard laughter. Whipping her head around Pam greeted her with a full set of mirthful lips with a glowing look of amusement in her eyes. Tara caught off guard by the look chuckled nervously spilling beer down her chin in the process.

Still smiling Pam found an unsoiled paper towel under the upper cabinets beside the sink. She bypassed Tara's hand wiping the beer away for her. Her ministrations were impossibly delicate, but thorough.

"Thanks," Tara stepped back hindered by the island.

"I should be going," she balled up the towel sitting it behind Tara.

"So you're going to leave me in the dark about the dress?"

Pam looked down. She should have known Tara wouldn't let it go. She foolishly believed she could leave without having to share why she was wearing it. There's was nothing wrong with having dinner with one's boss. She was at the peak of her career. It's not as if she were sleeping her way to the top, when she had a very comfortable position with an equally comfortable paycheck.

"This old thing," she picked at the bow, but Tara's eyes were narrowed in suspicion.

Tara knew this look. She was stalling. She didn't know why the question was that much more important since Pam seemed uninterested in answering her.

"I was on a date."

Tara's frown deepened, "oh."

"I—"

Tara interrupted, "this is one of my favorite songs," she started for the outside when the familiar chords of a song danced into her psyche.

Everything seemed to disappear whenever she and Pam were together. She liked the feeling of forgetting swept away by the executive's words and mannerisms to the simplest of gestures. The news of her date ruined it; she listened and watched with reverence Tara could barely understand. Climbing out of her stupor after she felt cut in the gut she did what she did best, she ran.

Tara didn't worry about how eager she seemed to leave Pam in the kitchen. She stood outside the entrance. The elevated view gave her a better angle of the band. The song was, she wasn't sure of the name, was always dedicated to the broken hearts before it began. Tara had missed that part she was too busy getting her broken. It started off like a ballad and then it sped up. Naomi loved ballads, but for the sake of her band she kept her music upbeat. She rebelled against tendencies of the broken heart and screamed her resistance of the societal norms. How fitting Tara thought. Behind her she heard and smelled Pam advance.

The lyrics were relevant. She nodded her head to the beat as an act. She loved the band's music, but Pam's revelation killed the mood that swelled when she saw the blond arrive. Tara knew in her mind Pam and she were just friends. Reasoning with the heart was an up road battle when it set its sights on Pam because of a kiss—maybe longer than that.

"This is a great song," Pam noted reclaiming Tara's hand.

The dark haired woman's head slowed from the action. She looked down at it then stopped completely looking at the dress and how beautiful she wore it. Leaning into Pam's ear, "did they appreciate the dress?"

Pam nodded.

Tara leaned in again stretching her neck upward since Pam's height, complimented by heels, required the extra effort. "Good."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxx

"Die," Tara mumbled. She wasn't the biggest fan of violent games, but there moods where she was inclined to let out a little steam by killing zombies.

"Tara honey…"

"Fucking die," Tara whispered to herself shooting off the head of a portly zombie slowly, but surely advancing to eat her brains. "You wanna play?" The question was the only acknowledgement Lafayette was in the room.

Lafayette watched her play from his spot behind the couch, "no I'm good it's just early." He called it a night with the handsome Jason and woke up in the middle of the night to see Tara wide awake and enamored in her zombie killing game. He didn't think anything of it, until this morning.

"Too early for killing zombies?"

"Hookah did you sleep at all last night?"

Tara didn't answer. Something was upsetting her. His first thought was Lettie Mae. What had that bitch done now?

"Did something happen at the party?" Realizing who else was at the party his eyes widened in understanding. Tara heard him rummaging in the kitchen then he went his room. Pausing her game she turned around in time so Lafayette heading to the door in his purple hoodie and a knife in one hand and keys in the other.

"What the fuck are you doing?" she stood jumping over her jacket and pants she threw beside her, before she got comfortable to play in a t-shirt and checkered boxers.

"I'm bout to cut a bitch."

He tried to sidestep Tara, but his roommate wasn't moving.

"Naomi done messed with the wrong two bitches."

Tara frowned. "Naomi? No."

Lafayette narrowed his eyes. His hand hung in the air with the knife swinging from his limp wrist. "Then what the fuck Tara. It's too early in the morning for passive aggressive zombie killing unless some shit went down last night."

Sometimes Tara wished for the simpler days when she wasn't even asked how her day was. Her mother was never sober enough to read the small cues of Tara's unhappiness. Lafayette read her too well for her liking. Frustrated by the whole situation she came clean. Pulling out a seat she plopped on it holding her head in her hands.

"I like Pam," she admitted as it was one of the worst things she could do.

Lafayette didn't speak right away. Then his eyes widened in realization. "Work Pam?" he asked to clarify.

Tara nodded her head.

"Fucking 'uptight almost getting you fired now you go out to lunch ignoring your best friend' Pam?"

Tara nodded her head, this time meeting Lafayette's look of consternation.

"What about mystery kisser?" He slid his flyer from the table while its copies lay in a pile untouched. The corner crinkled from grabbing it recklessly.

Tara's face folded with pursed lips she answered pathetically, "she _is_ mystery kisser. She's always been mystery kisser."

"You said all that shit because of the way Pam kissed you?" he was having a hard time wrapping his mind around Tara's crush developing into something more. Lafayette mistook it for a passing phase.

"Everything I said was true about the kiss, but it doesn't fucking matter, because she's dating someone else."

"How you know?"

"She told me last night," Tara groaned. "I had a great time I'm glad you thought so too."

Lafayette put away the butcher knife. "What?"

"I walked her to her car. Her phone was sitting on the seat. And you'll never guess the fucking name."

"Who?" The ways she said it meant they were someone knew or knew of. His friend's plight became a distance memory at the thought of something even juicer to add.

"Sam Merlotte."

And then waking up to a pile of dead zombies made all the sense in the world.

Lafayette lowered his gaze to pick through his mental directory, "bitch you is fucking lying. Her ass slept her way to the top?"

Even broken hearted Tara wouldn't see anyone including her best friend insinuate that Pam was a whore.

"Hey, she's way too fucking talented to stoop to that shit," She wasn't intimidating her under clothes; her roommate understood another comment like that would not be welcomed. "Fuck, I should be happy for her."

"Why?"

"She's my friend she's happy—he's perfect for her."

"Fuck that magnanimous shit. You got your work cut out for you, but that doesn't mean she won't end up yours at the end of the day."

Tara shook her head ready to retreat back to her game. Wild eyed Lafayette hooked his arm through hers and positioned her back in the seat she stood from. He looked at the table then he looked at Tara and then at the table where the copies were.

"It'd be a shame if those went to waste."

"What's the point; you know who she is now. The cat's out the fucking bag," Tara stated angrily.

The dark skinned man wasn't listening.

She was growing increasingly upset. She just wanted to go back to her game and forget that her feelings of Pam existed. Tara knew it wasn't as easy as willing herself to forget, but it wouldn't stop her from trying.


	12. Chapter 12

"Could you be on your best behavior?"

Sookie stopped walking tugging on Tara to get her attention. Brown eyes looked unaffected at the smaller blonds wounded look. Tara hadn't asked her to come with her. The blond drummer invited herself along, unbeknownst to Tara that this was all part of a plan masterminded by her roommate.

"You think I don't know how to act?" her tone deepened with threat.

Tara eyed her coworkers in their best casual dress. It was an unbalanced mix of suits and gamers at one of Sam's weekend socials. Tara was proud of herself. Sam had asked her help to coordinate this event. Sam had approached her with an idea to have an exhibition of skill with several of their games new and old. The set up wasn't too complicated. It mirrored a video game arcade with two spots sectioned off for two competing opponents. It meant several afternoons at Sam's place and even an awkward moment where she was privy to her boss persuading Pam into an intimate embrace. She pretended to be under the weather for the rest of the afternoon and went home. She doubted if Pam even knew she was there.

Anyone could play, but it was important that everyone who did realized there would be experienced gamers bent on winning. First there was a racing game with specific gaming chairs in front of a projector screen. The event was casual, but the inside had more of a laid back feel thanks to Tara. To those familiar with The Pit's décor they would know that it had been her sole inspiration. The outside, for the lack of a better description, was all Pam. There was a white tent to protect from the shade of the sometimes unforgiving southern sun.

The competitions were racing, karaoke, and dance. Everyone signed up to play keeping their eyes on the prizes, donated especially for the top three winners of each game. It wasn't a conventional exhibition where people were expected to watch every competition. Instead the winners logging in with their employee identity I.D. could have their scores identified at the end.

Lafayette had already promised that he was going to kick her ass, before he disappeared to find Jason. That left Tara warning Sookie, her involuntary date for the afternoon, to be on her best behavior.

"I don't see your girlfriend," Sookie swiped two glasses of wine from a passing waiter's tray.

"Fuck you Sook."

"You love me more," she teased in a sing song voice. She was aware Tara hadn't stopped looking for Pam ever since they arrived. The dark haired woman was probably eager to show off her outfit. It was undoubtedly the most expensive ensemble Tara ever bought. And it was all to impress the style authority. Tara had clearly gone the extra mile, with a gray and black striped blazer to wear over a v shirt and dark blue jeans. Tara looked good with her hair over her shoulders.

Tara rolled her eyes accepting the proffered drink.

"He's cute," Sookie started in the direction of an older talking with a woman that looked to be his wife from their matching bands.

Tara's hand shot out around her waist keeping the blond close, "what the fuck did I just say about being on your best behavior?"

Sookie shrugged taking a sip letting Tara pull her along.

"I have to work with these fucking people."

"But I don't," Sookie didn't hide the mischievous glint in her eyes.

Tara downed the rest of her champagne in time to grab another mumbling she'd need a real drink soon. For the sake of propriety she didn't anticipate their relationship would be overt for people to know that they were a couple. Though, because Tara did know, it made it all the worse to see them in any capacity with the added knowledge. When she turned back around Sookie was gone.

"Fuck."

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Pam wore a pastel pink dress with the back open and pockets. The executive was looking for somewhere to relax and found her sanctuary in self-imposed solitude by a swing under an oak tree. From her vantage point she could see the whole crowd. Everyone milling around discussing work related gossip or personal interests. She made her rounds once already while perusing the crowd for at least two familiar faces, more interested in just one.

She saw her boss approaching. Sam ruined her peace and for that she couldn't appreciate the weight of his compliment.

"You look ravishing."

She offered a grin of thanks, but it didn't meet her eyes. She knew Sam meant well. She might have looked lonely standing by herself, but she wasn't.

"What do you think?" He looked over all the work he and Tara had done, mostly him since the inside had been solely Tara's handiwork. He wanted even his most socially awkward employees to share in the joy of the festivities. He liked Tara and he trusted her judgment, but he desperately wanted someone's opinion that mattered more than the gamers in his eyes.

"It's wonderful," she complimented the work with an even tone he wasn't enthused to hear. "Especially the inside," she ventured with a hint more excitement.

Pam attended enough office parties to have seen them all. The caterers dressed in their white uniforms, everyone dressing up to outdo everyone they knew were coming for sure, including her. She smiled to herself at the thought that they would try. The band that played an original sedate piece of work always reminded her of the work of a deceased master—either Mozart or Bach. The inside was a different story. Channeling the inner child Tara did an amazing job.

"Yes, she did do a great job," Sam praised Tara accordingly earning a satisfied smile. They fell into a silence that didn't feel entirely comfortable. Since their first date they'd been out on three others. They were pleasant as if Sam couldn't get away from the formerly welcomed approval. He knew Pam was capable of more. She came alive sometimes and then it died down into the reserve he mentioned he liked. But, once he tasted that passion he wanted more.

"Tara!" he waved one of his favorite employees over.

Tara waved her hand holding the smile in place only to stop it from descending into a frown. She had been doing so well. The supportive friend who asked about Pam's mystery man never letting on Tara knew his identity. She even blackmailed Lafayette into secrecy with a few choice photos from New Year's three years ago. He would never want anyone to see them in the light of day.

The small climb to the tree she greeted both of them cordially.

"Great turn out right?"

Tara putting her hands in the pockets of her blazer mirrored Pam, whose hands rested in the pockets of her dress. Sam's distance wasn't intimate, but it still affected Tara since they were secluded from the rest of the guests. If she were Sam standing with Pam she wouldn't be discussing the weather. There was no way she could know that their conversation might as well have been on the innocuous subject.

"There you are," Sookie grabbed a hold of the arm whose hand was still firmly stuck in her pocket. With a look of indulgence Tara waited for Sookie to calm her theatrics. The hill hadn't been that steep a climb.

Pam's brow rose in curiosity. Sam smiled at Pam's expressive brow. While Tara was stuck on how much she had missed this weirdo named Sookie.

"Sook what?"

"Something about you being called out to play Dance Marvelous, Lafayette wanted me to come find you. That's a beautiful dress," Sookie complimented Pam.

"I know."

Tara looked to the multi layered home, "Lafayette's calling me out?" Tara frowned, Dance Marvelous wasn't his game.

"No some guy named Devin, Derk, Dil—"

"Dylan," Tara deadpanned.

"Yea that guy," she pointed happily. "He's really good," she noticed Tara's skeptical look, "but _you_ got this," she corrected with exaggerated certainty.

"I think the grand prize for Dance Marvelous is a four wheeler," Sam helped.

Tara's eyes brightened at the idea then it died just as quickly when she realized she had nowhere to put it. As if Pam read her mind she offered a two word solution, "my house."

Tara looked for her to clarify, "I've got all that land and this dirt path that perfect. I have a shed I never use. Maybe you could house it there. That is until you found somewhere more permanent." Tara liked the idea. Her smile showed how much she liked the idea.

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Pam liked the idea of seeing Tara on the lazy weekends she usually spent alone. Tara's eyes brightened as soon as Sam reminded her of the prize. She wanted to see Tara with the machine. With a simple outline of childhood, Pam knew Tara wasn't given luxuries. Pam didn't like that Tara could ever want for anything, chiefly because Tara shared about her childhood painted an unpleasant picture.

"Shit."

It wasn't the fact that she had lost out on a brand new four wheeler. Her pride stung more that the woman she was trying to impress watched her very public defeat. Dylan and Tara were amiable coworkers, but the work dynamic died when the two competitive players were competitors. Dylan's longer frame attributed to his victory in Pam's mind. But Tara, she moved very well, the blond noted as she walked the expanse of the crowd stopping when there was an open gap for her to enjoy the show.

The techno music as exhilarating it even had Pam's finger tapping her glass along with the beat. Dylan won the first and Tara the second game. It appeared Tara would be the victor, but a slight misstep was all the advantage Dylan needed to take the lead to win. Tara's loss explained the unsportsmanlike explicative. Grabbing her coat furiously from its perch on a surprised Sookie's arm she started outside leaving Sam's game room.

"Better luck next time Thornton," Dylan gloated.

Lafayette grabbed Tara's shoulder to stop her from storming off. "I know it's just a game," she offered through clenched teeth, she was acting like a child. In her defense she was really looking forward to having an excuse to be around Pam, at her home, without suspicion.

"Fuck that, what happened?"

"I lost," Tara responded with attitude.

"Duh bitch—why?"

Sookie joined them turning their half circle into a triangle, "guys," she tried to get their attention.

The upset woman tried to walk away again, but her roommate stopped her, "I got distracted."

Tara pursed her lips angrily. She the game was hers to win. It would have been a flawless victory if only she hadn't focused on Pam's reflection. Damn, she was too beautiful to ignore. Tara forgot to pay attention to the on screen instructions and tripped. She recovered quickly, but the damage was done.

Sookie didn't bother to try to get their attentions anymore, "your girlfriend's got skills." She started in the direction of faux arena shaking to the rhythm of the game's music.

Pam wasn't a fan of dirt. The executive didn't imagine she would want anything to do with the four-wheeler, outside of what was necessary. This would be her gift to Tara, since she didn't see the younger woman letting her buy it for her. Dylan smiling for his victory called out for anymore challengers. The crowd thinned with the disappointment of the crowd favorite being beaten. Pam was about to let a little known secret out the bag and she didn't even question why she thought Tara was worth it

She took off her pumps positioning them beside the machine on the right. Dylan stood on the left machine looking unimpressed by his new competitor. She didn't begrudge him for his bias in regards to her ability to play. She was certain that everyone else, who stayed behind, was just as confused by her desire to participate.

From peripheral she saw him shrug ready to go through the motions to indulge the executive's unexpected and very late entry. When Dylan invited challengers he expected players that would be half of a challenge. He thought about even letting her win one since she showed an interest.

_Your girlfriend's got skills_

The words rang through Tara self-deprecating haze. She followed Sookie and realized what she meant when she saw Pam's ponytail bouncing with the rest of her body. She followed the screen instructions well. She managed her body effortlessly. Lafayette stood beside her his mouth partly open.

"Who the fuck knew?"

Tara shrugged. She couldn't keep her eyes off of her. She didn't care if Pam was winning, which she was, it was the ease of which she moved. Her movements were careful and calculated and at the same time, Tara couldn't help the feeling this was the most exposed Pam let herself be in a long time. Her defeat still fresh was forgotten because of the same distraction.

"Shit," Lafayette said in response to her first victory.

The only sign hinting Pam's enjoyment was the slight smug smirk when Dylan, who had not let her win, set his jaw from being caught off guard in the first rounds loss. The next game he tried harder, as hard as he did when he came back to kick Tara's ass on the last game. The second game wasn't an upset as the first. It didn't lessen the sting for the avid gamer when LOSER in big bold letters highlighted Dylan's side of the screen.

"Maybe next time," Pam purred as she put her shoes back on.

It wasn't as if she was ignorant to fun in all its forms. Dance Marvelous was a game she delighted in. It hadn't come naturally, but she perfected it during nights out with Eric and a duo of strippers. The nameless women made the game more interesting giving the blond even more motivation to win. They relinquished their clothing when Pam, Eric's secret weapon, obliterated their scores.


	13. Chapter 13

A score of avid players congratulated Pam on her win. It started with shy onlookers saying thanks and then others flocked forward as if Pam were a celebrity giving out autographs. Tara wouldn't have been surprised if someone did ask.

"Where you think she learned to move like that?"

"Sex," Sookie said as a matter fact.

Tara shook her head, "shut up."

The answer was plausible she just didn't like the fact that they were talking about Pam like that.

"She don't move like no virgin," Lafayette's voice rang a truth Tara couldn't deny.

"Hey don't knock virgins," Sookie smiled from memory, "sometimes they surprise you."

Tara left the duo. She stood at the end of the line that gave Pam timid congratulations. Dylan even congratulated her. Was there nothing this woman could not do? Pam met Tara's eyes and let her thin smile grow when she greeted her last fan.

"If you thought nerds were drooling over you before," Tara smile broke out hurting her face because it was so wide. "Fuck Lego hearts you're going to have a fucking monument dedicated to you."

Pam frowned at the image, "if someone approaches with the notion do me a favor, dissuade them." She held out her hand for Tara to help her down even though she didn't need it.

Tara's hand closed around hers delicately. Just when she thought she couldn't be surprised by this woman, she exposed another layer to make her even more desirable. Tara was goner, whether she realized it today or tomorrow or if she already knew, she was Pam's. Nothing short of a miracle could change that even if Sam stood in her way at every opportunity.

Sam started toward her interrupting their trance with his clapping. Tara slid her hand out of Pam's depositing them in her pocket. "Beautiful and fun," he looked at her highlighted score, "I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it for myself." He nodded towards Tara, "would you?"

"Not if I hadn't seen it," Tara agreed.

Thinking they might want some time together Tara plotted her exit. But, if she was paying attention she would have noticed Pam seeking her gaze to signal that that was the last thing she wanted to do.

"There's a path starting where those swings were. There are some beautiful flowers back there and a little stream. I was wondering if you'd like take a walk with me." Sam smiled his most charming smile. He wanted more than anything to be alone with Pam.

Pam looked to Tara as if she were about to open the invitation to her as well when Sookie sauntered over.

"This is a beautiful house," the waitress started toward them with a suspiciously full glass of ice tea.

For some reason Tara singled out that detail out stepping back a little. As if she had caused the accident into fruition with a thought. She watched it unfold unable to stop it. Sookie tripped and poured the majority of the sugary contents on the left side of Sam's pants. It was a peculiar trip that looked more deliberate than accidental.

"Oh no. I'm sooo sorry," she held the empty glass with her other hand covering her mouth in faux sympathy.

Sam, ever the gentleman, took the accident in stride, "it's alright," he held his wet leg out. "I'll have someone clean this up," and just when Pam thought it had forgotten, "it won't take me long to change. Why don't you meet me at the swing?" He took Pam's silence as an acquiesce to his early question.

Pam found herself nodding.

Tara glared at Sookie who she grabbed before she successfully escapes. "What the fuck was that?"

"I tripped. Five."

"The fuck you did. You're going to get me fired," she seethed in a harsh whisper.

"Four. Three."

"Why are you counting?"

"One," she said hurriedly using the blond in Tara's peripheral to escape.

Tara greeted Pam with a thin smile, before she returned her gaze forward seeing empty space where Sookie should've been. She appreciated it even less the second time the drummer disappeared on her.

"Were you interested in exploring the path?"

"No thanks I don't want to see…," Tara started, "… nature," she finished pathetically. She didn't hate nature. It was just best, albeit lame, excuse she could come up with. The gamer didn't want to witness more intimate moments between the stunning couple—or worse feel like a third wheel.

"But it's all around you," Pam pressed. "Sam assures me it's beautiful."

"I don't doubt," Tara shrugged, "I just really hate…nature." She _really_ didn't want to see them together. "Bugs," Tara's mind went blank on other things to name. "Bees, worms."

"Well you're surprising Tara. I didn't picture you as a gall bothered by these you could kill with your shoe."

"I'm not."

"Good, then you'll come," the blond didn't give her time to disagree.

"Sure," Tara breathed to no one in particular. She jogged the short distance to the door to catch up with her.

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"We some _bad_ bitches."

Lafayette and Sookie toasted as they spotted the duo disappearing on a dirt bath sandwiched by trees hovering like an arch. Jason plucked finger food in his mouth.

"I called it. The cougar vibe," Jason stated proudly.

"We made it happen," the dark skinned man added picking a piece of lint out of Sookie's hair.

Sookie turned her sights on the married man Tara stopped her from approaching. His wife wasn't in sight. Before she could take two steps Lafayette grabbed ahold of her, "where is you going hookah?"

"Nowhere," she answered innocently.

Lafayette wasn't fooled. Sookie may be his temporary partner in crime, he wasn't crazy enough to let her go off on her own and make unsupervised trouble.

"Calm yourself bitch have a hors d'oeuvre," he stole one from Jason's plate depositing it in Sookie's hand.

Glaring at the food as if she could wish it into another more pleasurable form she threw it in her mouth when it did nothing. The blond chewed despondently. She hoped at least Tara was having fun for all of them.

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Tara kicked a rock with her gray chucks. Not for the first time Pam noticed how stunning Tara was today. Standing on the hill she was surprised that the well-dressed individual headed her way was Tara.

"I like your outfit."

The gamer knew it was bad that the only reason she came to the party dressed up was just hear those words from Pam. She accepted them unashamed with an accomplished sensation shooting through her veins.

Tara glowed from the compliment, "thank you. You look ok," Pam was stunned into stopping.

"Excuse me?" If her arm wasn't contently wrapped around Tara's she would have let if join the other on her hip.

Tara smiled indulgently. "What?"

"Try again."

Tara slid her arm out. The woman was beyond staggering, but Tara kept her hand over her mouth and the other stuck in her pants. She tilted her head from one side to the other before reclaiming the executives arm. "You look more than ok."

"Please tell me women don't fall for that disinterested act. I expected more creativity from you Tara."

"You're not women, you're my friend," Tara lied.

Despite what Lafayette says about women and relationships and defining them, there were certain lines that Tara consciously didn't cross. It was all to keep Pam as close as a friendship would allow. She was fine with the consolation prize even though walking in a romantic setting, with rich leaves and the sweet smell of honeysuckle weakened her resolve. Perhaps that's why she was becoming more playful than she should be.

Pam turned directing them toward a path that led them to a dock on the water. "Besides whatever I say after Sam Merlotte will be a distant second. He probably knows fucking words I can't pronounce to describe how more than ok you look."

"Ravishing," Pam helped. "One proposition away from putting the moves on me right here in these woods. How long have you known?" If Pam was worried that Tara knew she didn't show it.

"Since the silver dress," Tara liked to remember exactly what Pam wore when they spent time together. It made remembering that much more vivid. She wasn't aware that the preference would impress Pam, but that wouldn't be a confession for today.

"And you haven't said anything?"

"You're two consenting adults."

"Thank you for your discretion."

Tara pulled away to lean on the railing, "your welcome."

They heard whistling. Tara frowned wishing that there was more time for them to be alone. She turned her head to the woman standing by a wide tree that hid them from whoever might be looking for them.

"Would you do me a huge favor and come closer." A few hesitant steps later Tara was standing directly in front of Pam. Plagued by self-conscious musings Tara started to count in her head. Pam's proximity, her perfume—her lips were making it very hard to concentrate.

They heard Sam call out Pam's name. The beginning of the bridge groaned under his weight. Seeing now one both women assumed he went on to explore the rest of the trail. Pam turned her head in the direction of line of the t-shaped bridge half expecting to be found out.

"So got any big plans with your four-wheeler," Tara whispered. The sting of loss subsided and excitement for Pam's win took its place.

"I thought about just giving it to you, as a gift," she continued before Tara could protest. "Then I thought of my Navy blue pumps that were ruined the night of the garage party. What better way for you to feel like you've earned something and making you pay for the loss of my beloved shoes."

Tara knew that she should be taking Pam's words a little more seriously. But the absurdity of their position bothered her. "Why are we whispering?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

Several things were obvious. Tara's heartbeat pounding hard against her chest was obvious. The throbbing between her legs was painfully obvious. Pam had to be aware of what she doing to Tara and if she wasn't the gamer would make that obvious tempted to lean and kiss her.

Tara inched toward the lips not even an inch away from her, "no it's not."

"We're talking. I don't want to be bothered."

"Not even by Sam?"

Pam pursed her lips, "are you sure you're a lesbian. You talk about him more than I do?"

"I….," Tara decided to change the subject again, "so what do I have to do make us even?"

A ghost of a smile crossed Pam's lips, "you'll see." She didn't say it to be cryptic. In her own mind the plan hadn't developed well enough to be said aloud. She just wanted it out there—for some reason she wanted Tara to anticipate spending time with her.

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This will be my last post of the day. I'll try to get in the habit of telling you guys when to expect more cause I don't want my story distracting you guys from school, work, driving (joking on the driving part unless its true). Extremely flattered though my work qualifies as a distraction!


	14. Chapter 14

"Hey suga."

Tara's heart stopped.

"Ah shit," Lafayette stopped dangling the keys on his fingers. He was the first to see Lettie Mae at the door waiting like a fucking stray.

"What are you doing here ma?"

"I come to talk to my favorite girl."

It meant money. Lafayette stood at the house with the key in the lock. He wasn't about to let her in.

"I'm too tired for this bullshit ma," Tara wasn't tired. She was still riding the aftershocks of the electric chemistry from this afternoon. She wanted to bask in that ride for as long as possible tuning out Lafayette's incessant ranting about someone's wardrobe.

"I need a place to stay," she rushed on when she saw the idea didn't make Tara happy, "just for a little while baby."

Lettie Mae eyed Tara's roommate and he answered the question in her eyes with a look that said 'hell to the fucking no you ain't coming in'.

Tara glared. "Fuck ma, what happened to where you were staying?"

"I didn't want to be there anymore I wanted to be with my baby," the gamer could tell from the look in Lafayette's eyes that he didn't believe this was a good idea. "I want to get clean baby," she tried another tactic. She threw the endearment around as if it would soften Tara's resolve. The practiced manipulator was poor in many things, but knowing just what to say when it came to her daughter she was an artist.

Clenching her jaw she nodded for Lafayette to open the door. Tara walked in last sandwiching her mother between Lafayette and her. There were a few things missing from her last visit so they kept her standing out the open. Tara went into the back and started rummaging around in her room. After one last trip to the bathroom she had a bag ready.

Lafayette caught her arm taking a few steps away from Lettie Mae until his hip leaned on the edge of the back of their couch, "fuck it hookah I ain't letting you go with her."

"You want me to turn my back on my mother?"

"She need professional help, ain't no good gonna come of this," he tried to convince her even though he saw the signs that he already lost this battle.

Tara heard his warning, but her mind was made up. She would try. Tara had to try. If she left Lettie Mae alone Tara wasn't sure she could look at herself in the mirror and accept that she quit. She saw Lafayette's side. It was hard to consider letting her mother go as any kind of option. The woman gave birth to her. She gave her a name, putting aside it's origin as a plantation, it was still a name. The woman cared for her when she was sick and stroked her hair and sang to her. Tara hated being sick, but she didn't mind the act, when it was one of the few reasons Lettie Mae stayed sober and was nice to her.

He didn't know what kind of hold Lettie Mae had over Tara. That psychological abuse deteriorated reason whenever the older woman came around. It wasn't healthy for Tara to just drop everything for her mother's sake—especially for the type of mother Lettie Mae was. The strip club wasn't that far in the past, but he doubted it even crossed her mind. She wanted to save her mother. That was noble. Lafayette saw what Tara refused to see. Her mother was an opportunist. She'd suck the life out of Tara if it meant she would have something to gain from it.

Tara knew she shouldn't believe her mother. No one could understand the position she felt forced into every time she saw her. She loved her and hated her and for some reason one emotion couldn't exist without the other. Despite all the bad there were instances of good that rang in Tara's head as prominently as the bad things even if they were erratic. She didn't want to be gullible. If she could she would slam the door in her mother's face right now and be content never to see her again.

Lettie Mae rubbed her arms. Shifting the weight of her body from one leg to the other she was growing impatient. She didn't like Tara's roommate. She wanted Tara to herself like she had been growing up. It was great she got a steady job and a home. But, it was nothing like a mother's unconditional love. That bond nobody could break it didn't matter how enigmatic the pull.

"How many times you going to fucking do this to yourself?"

Tara ignored him. "Can you bring me my assignments I'll tell you where to drop them off when we're settled."

"What the fuck are you going to do about Pam?"

A wistful smiled slowly formed on her lips. It was something when a woman's name broke through the dark haze that followed Lettie Mae liked a rain cloud over her head.

"I can't think about her right now." That was a lie as soon as it escaped her mouth. Every moment of every day was dedicated to thinking about the blond. She would be impossible to escape in the lull of silence. She was the most beautiful thing Tara could think of and she didn't want her mother near her. She knew her impulse should be the opposite; that she should want so share this woman with her mother. Her friends were her real family though she gave her mother credit for trying to be more. Maybe when she earned an introduction she might not cringe at the possibility.

They could even laugh about the stripper incident, or not. In any case Lafayette brought up her name as a last ditch effort to get Tara to see reason. She didn't want to see it. She wanted to save her mother after all these years. It was a childhood fantasy that marinated over the years in a pool of disappointment waiting to resurface.

Lettie Mae made the first positive step. Tara had to follow through to see where it would take them. Her insides bounced with reserved optimism.

Tara opened the door for her mother to follow. The older woman looked around the apartment. She looked imploringly at the fridge. Lafayette stepped in her line of sight, "don't even think about it bitch."

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While Tara's world was being turned upside down, Pam's world was coming out of a blurred state. She lay on her couch still wearing her dress. Her shoes were discarded on the floor and her best friend gave her his ear and a much needed foot massage.

"He's handsome, smart, he's a gentleman," Pam noted off Sam's desirable qualities.

"She's hot, smart, and funny," Eric responded sharing Tara's.

"He's rich."

"She's hard working middle class."

"He's open."

"She lights up when you're in the room."

They were in a stalemate. To escape his bride and her annoying mother for the evening he claimed that he had an emergency meeting. For once, he wasn't going out to find trouble. He went straight to Pam's house and when he arrived he was welcomed with open arms that were already carrying a confusing burden. On one hand she had Sam, her boss and everything else she just stated to Eric. And on the other Tara the dark skinned mystery she felt happier with and there were no established feelings or an intention on the gamer's part.

"She does?" Pam sounded more hopeful than she wanted.

Pam slid her arm from her face sitting up. The movement garnered her friend's attention. He read her expression, "I win."

"You don't win," Pam slid up pulling her feet out of his grasp. He wouldn't gloat and think he could still touch her.

"You like her a lot," then he went to his earlier argument, "it's because she's black."

"Her color has nothing to do with it," she protested.

Eric tilted his head not believing her, but decided not to voice it.

"Maybe a little—there's more to her than that."

There was more excitement in the ambiguity of her praise than when she listed all of Sam's qualities. Eric noticed his friend was too lost in thought to consider that detail. Sam was the compatible match. He made more sense to her than Tara did.

"Then stop dating Sam and go after her."

Pam sighed. Eric wasn't telling her what she wanted to hear and he knew it.

"What's the point I'd be walking into the relationship knowing how it ends."

"Would you?" Eric couldn't wait to be enlightened by the blond's logic.

"She's a beautiful young woman. I'm an attractive older woman. Opposites attract so there's great sex in our future. We might enjoy each other for six months to a year, but it won't last." She skipped the boring version with statistics.

"You're afraid."

Pam scowled when she stood up. If he was going to make accusations she wouldn't be sitting on the same couch.

"Chicken, "he continued, "wrapped up in this cloud of fear you're making up your own ending."

"I forget how impossible you are," she crossed her arms.

"Pamela," his use of her full name was the only sign of seriousness, "you fear things you don't understand. It's the human condition. And," he added belatedly with a hint of toying in his voice, "it's also a symptom."

"What?"

"A century old disease."

She quirked her left brow.

"Scientist can't explain it. It just sneaks up on people."

"Don't fucking say it."

"I'm not," he stood to his full height, "whether I say it or not you know," he added meaningfully depositing a dry kiss on her forehead before he let himself out.

She hated the silence of her home. Choosing a playlist on her Ipod instrumental filled the rooms to lighten the tension.

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The first time she tried to help Lettie Mae get clean she was a teenager. Young and naïve and refusing to believe the mere fact of wanting it paled in comparison to the will that didn't want it. The teenager put up a fight that seemed almost as desperate as her mother's. Lettie Mae's addiction won that night. Tara still had scars from the failed attempt.

In the bathroom the teenager wiped at the red lines from her mother's nails. She assaulted Tara so she could run to get another drink. A mountain of small cotton swabs were soaked in her blood. She didn't have clothes to spare with her limited wardrobe. Nothing of her mother's was clean, so she made due with cotton swabs and water.

Her mother's reflection came into view behind her. She drank from her newly purchased bottle, taking a long unnecessary victory gulp she barely survived since she ended up choking on it. It was too sad to find funny as her mother turned away to fill the narrow hallway with her coughs.

This time it would be different. She wasn't drunk in childish hope. There were practical tools to use to help with her mother's sobriety. Her mother had terrible will power. She would need constant looking after at every part of the day. The motel was in the beginning of town, but it was more secluded. The owner never worried for customers even though it was hard to see from the main highway because of the trees. The Blue Goat Motel catered to a specific type of clientele. Lettie Mae's screams wouldn't be reported. As long as there wasn't an unpleasant smell wafting from the room they were promised privacy.

Her mother introduced her to The Blue Goat when Tara answered one of her infamous text messages. She'd shacked up with six people in one room and they all looked drained and lifeless with glazed over eyes seeing things that weren't there.

Lettie Mae took off her jacket. The lines on her arm told the story she doubted her mother could remember. Tara took it and hung it in the closet. Getting on her hands and knees she inspected the bed and its soundness. She wouldn't be sleeping around her mother if she wasn't properly restrained. The lessons of youth ringing out to help her remember what needed to be done.

"We gonna do this baby," Lettie Mae sounded hopeful bordering manic excitement.

Tara kept inspecting the bed and its surroundings. She unplugged the lamp and put it across the room beside the television.

"I'm gonna get clean. Get a better job. Make more money. We can do this."

The older woman went on like this for an hour while Tara moved furniture around. Anything that her mother could use as a weapon was taken out of the bathroom. Everything was moved to a corner in the room behind a small sofa Tar would designate as her bed. She listened to her mother hearing the nervousness in her voice. It was her mother's comfort to say these things out loud. It helped her believe them. To make it as tangible as possible in my her mind, to fight the very real pain she would have to endure if she was truly committed.


	15. Chapter 15

The executive accepted Sam's continued affections. They were small gifts of flowers and jewelry. The man had good tastes. Though, she couldn't help wondering the future that lay ahead for them. She didn't want to keep accepting them to be polite and if she was honest she was flattered and attracted by to her boss. Monday morning would be the first time since her revelation that there might be more to her friendship with Tara than she originally thought.

She felt the pull when she thought Tara might lean in and kiss her. Pam would have let her. She might have enjoyed if they wasn't the possibility of being caught. Monday afternoon came quickly with meetings and paper work. Pam she couldn't say that she was entirely prepared for their reunion. They hadn't spoken since Saturday afternoon. The blond looked at the time on her phone. Then she tried texting and calling Tara, but all her attempts went unanswered. Annoyed by Tara's inconsideration she headed toward the elevator. She pressed the floor for The Pit. She tapped her foot impatiently resting both her hands on her hips.

Was she ignoring her? Pam thought it was unacceptable to act like a child and avoid talking if there was something that needed to be discussed. Problems weren't solved by ignoring the issues at hand.

The door opened and she entered an adult fun land almost designed in the way Tara decorated Sam's room. Tara's cubicle was empty. She didn't acknowledge the looks of adoration from the fans Tara pointed out she would have. Pam strode toward Lafayette who looked to more productive than she had ever seen him.

Her phone rang.

"Hello, beautiful," Sam smiled, "I wanted to invite you to lunch on my yacht." He didn't know if she liked water, but he always found it relaxing to dine on the water. He thought it might do her some good."

"I have plans," she said distractedly perusing The Pit for Tara.

"Oh ok," he stopped himself from asking about dinner tonight. They had plans Thursday night to go to an opera. He didn't want to wait that long for more alone time, but he would respect Pam's pace.

She ended the phone call with a manicured nail.

"Where is she? I'm fucking hungry."

The gamer had smelled her expensive ass perfume as soon as she walked in. "She's not here," Lafayette didn't look up from his game. He sighed when she stood over him expecting more of an answer, "Tara didn't come to work today."

Tara wasn't something he was keen on discussing at the moment. He loved her, but he felt like he had the right to be pissed off at her. What was she thinking? When she texted him she was staying a motel and the name he anxiety skyrocketed. The Blue Goat Motel invited the lowliest type of people with the worst kind of addictions. It made him he worried more knowing where she was. He barely slept last night and ruining his beauty sleep with worry aggravated him more.

"Why?"

Lafayette stopped what he was doing to give his full attention to Pam. He looked at her and saw his worry, though a little more reserved, mirrored in her eyes. He took a deep breath calming the attitude everyone had felt the sting of since he came to work.

"Family issues," he would have been as unsatisfied as she was with the answer, if someone had the audacity to withhold information about someone he cared about.

"What family issues?"

"The kind of shit that resembles one of those recurring rashes," he replied angrily. He still couldn't fathom what Tara thought she could accomplish.

Whatever was wrong with Tara, Lafayette was intentionally being secretive about it. She didn't like it. She enjoyed their scheduled lunches to the point where Pam would anticipate them and move meetings around too early for her liking just so she would have the hour with Tara. Now, she was gone without explanation. Lafayette wouldn't share it with her at work, which gave her an idea.

"Have you eaten?"

Lafayette ear's perked hearing the clue of invitation.

"No," his eyes came over the dark rimmed glasses he wore more for looks than necessity. "Are you offering?"

"That depends if you tell me what I want to know."

Lafayette tilted his head swiveling his chair. Rocking back and forth he looked over Pam in her charming outfit. This woman, from way the fuck across the other side of the tracks, wanted his best friend.

"I have selective tastes. And its gets expensive when it comes to breaking the confidence of someone I care about."

The line of her mouth curved upward affirming expensive didn't frighten her. Picking up his coat he lead the way and Pam followed.

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The room washed in an eerie yellow color. Perfect lighting for a horror movie, Tara thought to herself. Considering she was living in her own personal hell.

"You were always a worthless thing," Lettie Mae groaned. The side of her face was planted on her bed, but one disturbing eye stayed open to glare at her daughter. The dark skinned woman sat on the edge of the sofa meeting the gaze.

She thought the night would have been kind. And it started that way in the beginning. It didn't last. She woke up to her mother howling Saturday night. Sunday she prayed for the lord to strike Tara down for being so cruel on the Lord's Day. Tara acknowledged the insults in her own mind, but she wouldn't give her mother the satisfaction. Mean and surly described her mother for two days and nights. She was unkind and inconsolable. Kind words were rebuffed and Tara went to the bathroom several times to wipe spit off of her face.

Her mother was spiteful. When anger didn't work she sought pity. The voice hard from screaming explicative after explicative was still hard but the intonation of her pleas made her pitiable. Tara watched fascinated at the different faces her mother showed her.

"You were a mistake. And if I was sober enough to get to a clinic you wouldn't be here torturing me like this. You think some things wrong with me, but you the one with demons." She drooled on the bed as she talked content to run her head along the wet of her own drool. Her southern drawl grew deeper. "What daughter would do this to her mother? I went through enough pain giving birth to you." She turned her head in the opposite direction toward the open door of the bathroom.

"I raised you better than this," she groaned pathetically before she started to cry.

"You're giving yourself a little bit too much credit there," Tara murmured to herself. If she followed her mother's example she wouldn't be here.

Tara never got this far on the first try. She expected resentment; hallucinations had already started, but in her lucid moments she knew who was responsible for predicament. She hadn't agreed to be handcuffed to a bed post.

Tar saw her phone vibrate. She moved to answer until her mother went into a fit of hysterics about a bee buzzing in her ear. She swatted the air. Her paranoia was heightened and she sweats profusely. The older woman's hair was a tangled mess flying in every direction.

She turned her phone to silent and then procured a cloth she wet with cold water to rub on her mother head. Another lesson learned from youth, short sleeves. When she had to get close Lettie Mae liked to dig her nails in. Tara fought back stopping it before it could become her mother's habit.

"Here," she whispered as she pressed the cloth on her forehead to help the fever. "You're burning up."

Her mother whimpered shrinking back from Tara's touch, but she was too weak to move away effectively. The cold cloth stayed on her forehead even when she moved her head to try to shake it off.

"'Cause I'm in hell," Lettie Mae answered with a haunting whisper. "And you a demon." Her eyes were wild and the middle vein in her forehead popped out.

"The ugliest demon I ever seen," she seethed with tears rolling down the sides of her cheeks. They went unchecked. Tara didn't move to brush them away and Lettie Mae, lost in her delusion, didn't feel them falling.

This was her mother. An ungrateful addict that looked less and less like the woman Tara wanted her to be.

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The gamer remembered reading that celebrity chefs liked to cook in the five star restaurant Pam was treating him to. Pam ordered for him since the menu was French, but he didn't worry about her selection. She wanted to know about Tara; she needed him for as long as he knew more than she did he was indispensable.

Lafayette wasn't a cheap date, but he made up for it with details about Tara the dark skinned woman hadn't shared yet. They were basically stories about her mother. He told her how she came in and out of Tara's life. When she showed up she always wanted something either money, or a place to stay.

"She's a fucking leech."

Lafayette swallowed, "the worst fucking kind. And Tara falls for her bullshit over and over it's fucking sad."

"She's her mother. That's the kind of bond that doesn't break over night or in Tara's case, a few hundred disappointments. She doesn't need to be alone trying to save her at any rate."

"Hell no she doesn't," Lafayette agreed emphatically. He poured himself another glass and twirled his glass.

Pam felt him looking at her.

"You like skittles?" he asked pointedly.

"You're not about to make a drunk reference about tasting someone's rainbow are you? I don't ever think we'll be that close." She eyed his bottle and could only assume liquid courage had loosened his tongue.

"Tara likes skittles. She will smack the fuck out of a bag of skittles and the bitch does it 'cause she knows I hates it. But when you love someone that bag of skittles and the noisy ass shit that come after don't make you love them less."

"Does this story have a point?"

He held up his finger with a firm grip on the glass, "it has as much of a point as you want it to have." He drank from his glass, "and if there is one I'm feeling too fucking good to dwell on it," he smiled into the glass. He started moving to the music over the speakers.

"Before you get caught up over there Chaka Khan, where can I find her?"

"Naw bitch, that kind of area a bit dangerous of a lily white sugar cube as sweet as you. Sit this one out. Lettie Mae's gonna show her true colors, if she hasn't already. And Tara will be back in our loving arms away from that bitch," he stated confidently.

Pam wasn't as confident in the lazy plan. Tara needed to be saved from her mother's stupidity.


	16. Chapter 16

Tara woke in the middle of the night to her mother crying. Lifting her head and she paused a few inches above her coat/pillow feeling the kink in her neck.

"Fuck," she growled.

Looking over to her mother she turned on the lamp on the floor. Her face was soaked in sweat and tears. She heard her mother talking incoherently, chalking it up as more hallucinations. Wiping her face she looked at her phone scrolling through the missed calls and text messages. The majority were from Lafayette, but it warmed her hear to see Pam's familiar name come up.

Getting up from the seat she walked to the bathroom and shut the door behind her.

She looked at the time 11:32 p.m. and decided to call anyway. The least she could do was leave a heart felt message about missing their lunch date.

"Hello."

Tara was stunned into silence. She hadn't expected Pam to pick up the phone this late. "Why did you answer the phone?" she asked intelligently.

"Because you called you it," replied slowly, she put a bookmark on the last page. She hadn't gotten very far using the book as a last ditch distraction to get her mind off of Tara. Her meeting with Lafayette hadn't set her at ease. She was determined to find out where the gamer was.

"It's late."

"You really need to let this conversation go," she took off her crimson red reading glasses. "And explain to me what you think you're doing."

Tara frowned, "I don't—"

"Lafayette told me everything."

Silence answered the blond.

"I get you want to try to save her. But she needs professional help."

"We can't afford it," Tara said slowly starting toward the door.

Pam stopped herself from offering. She knew Tara wouldn't take it.

She opened the door curious to see what her mother was up to. When Lettie Mae spotted Tara she began spitting again. It didn't matter that it didn't reached no farther than her chin. When she saw her on the phone her eyes widened and she started to scream.

"Help I'm being held against my will in The Blue Goat Motel!" Lettie Mae found her second wind. Tara was grateful she got a nap since her night was going to be eventful. She slammed the door glaring at it. She stayed silent hoping Pam hadn't heard her.

Pam sat at up.

"Where are you?" she asked her friend just to confirm what she heard already dressing. She finished wearing a peacoat with t shirt and sweat jeans and white tennis shoes.

"Hell," Tara answered with a sigh.

"Why are you doing this to yourself?"

"She's my mother," Tara crossed her arms as she opened the door to peak in on Lettie Mae again. She didn't trust her alone even if the room was fool proofed and her mother was handcuffed. The older woman squirmed around on the bed making a bigger mess of her hair—Tara pursed her lips at her mother's efforts.

Tara heard Pam shuffling around on the other side of the phone. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to find my remote," she lied snagging her keys as she headed outside to her car.

"Late night TV your thing?"

"I'm a sucker for reruns of Wonder Woman," she stated as she put the name of the motel in her GPS. It didn't take long to find the address and point her northeast. It was starting to rain.

Tara chuckled. "A fellow Linda Carter fan, you?"

Pam sighed. "You're going to have to take me off of this boring pedestal you have me on."

"I like this pedestal. It makes underestimating you fun when you surprise me with something I didn't know."

"Ask me if you want to know anything," she drove. The woman's voice pointed her passed Tara and Lafayette's apartment.

Tara none the wiser mistook the GPS voice as a character on the show Pam claimed she was watching.

"You sound like you're driving."

Pam smirked, "you're on speaker phone… I give you permission to ask me anything and you redirect? Are you sure a lesbian?"

The dark skinned woman knocked on the frame of the bathroom door. Her head dropped to her shoes. Her heart pounded and she couldn't help the smile shaping her lips. "If you expect all lesbians to flirt with you then you're going to be disappointed."

Pam eyed her phone following the directions straight with thirty three minutes left in her ride. "I'm not a girl I'm a friend," Pam quoted. "How does that work exactly?"

Tara couldn't help her grin. "If you see an attractive woman as an attractive woman then you're going to be focused on getting her into bed. I thought you were attractive and when we became friends I got over it."

Tara's logic didn't sound convincing.

"I would believe you if you weren't smiling."

The dark skinned woman's smile broadened, "how do you know I'm smiling?"

"I can hear it," she answered turning down the road to her destination.

Tara didn't answer, "I gotta call you back," the gamer hurried.

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The motel was a one story brick monstrosity. Only three lights were on from what she could see. One of the room doors was wide open. Pam dialed Tara's phone number, but the woman wasn't answering. Risking getting wet she left her car she found safety under the cement porch that lined all the rooms. The damage was done and her head was soaked. She'd be taking another shower when she got home. She dialed Tara's number again instinctively heading towards the room with the open door.

She feared the worst when she heard a phone ringing. Stepping into the light of the room she found Tara's phone on the floor. Pam's face folded assaulted by the smell of onions and urine. Pam deposited her phone in her coat pocket.

Pam started toward the bathroom. It was empty. The bed looked soiled and furniture had been moved around to the left side of the room. She picked up Tara's phone her back to the door. She felt rather than heard someone approaching her from behind. She turned and stood in one motion and saw Tara.

The dark skinned woman wasn't wearing a coat. She was soaked all the way through her clothes shivering inches from her. Pam's mouth parted from shock. Her hair fell wet and unruly over her shoulders.

"What?" her hand came up to Tara's face but her dark hand caught it before she could touch her.

Tara continued to shiver, "you shouldn't be here."

"What happened?"

Tara's eyes went over to the bed. She walked over to its edge fingering the limp cuffs dots of red from Lettie Mae's effort to get free. Her mother must have picked the lock. Considering her mother and the life she lead she wasn't surprised the talent would be in her repertoire. Still, Tara should have anticipated it.

"You're soaked," Pam observed because outside of shivering Tara didn't seem terribly concerned about it. Dirt, blood, and water mingled together on Tara's shirt. "Whose blood is that?"

Tara looked to be in a trance looking down at her shirt for the first time. A spot formed on her side. She raised it slowly just as curious to its source. She winced as she pulled the wet shirt from a series of large red scratches from where it looked as if her skin was scraped off.

"Tara," Pam gasped. "We need to get you to a hospital."

"No," Tara shook her head. She didn't want to wait for hours staring at white washed walls with the smell of antiseptic keeping her company. She didn't want Pam here, not like this, never to see her like this. "Please leave," she let the shirt drop. Now that her wound was brought to her attention she felt the pain acutely, but she wouldn't show Pam how much it hurt.

The rain was becoming more insistent she stared at it through the open door the breeze causing her to shiver more. She needed to get out of these wet clothes.

"Tara," Pam pushed certain that whatever had transpired had Tara in shock. She looked too lost to know what she was saying.

"Get the fuck out," the dark skinned woman screamed. A deep creased deepened as her frown sat determined as her eyebrows formed a distinct 'v'. She ventured a look at Pam, but the blond woman hadn't budged. Did she need to spell this out? Tara knew she was being unfair, but her emotions were too raw to consider Pam anything more than a punching bag.

To make a point she stalked toward Pam intending to push her as far away from her as possible. The blond didn't even flinch. She let herself be backed up against the wall like a helpless animal. Looking into her ice cool eyes they were anything but afraid. The thought made her angrier. She wanted it so bad, but she didn't know how to ask for her it. She wanted comfort, but the words wouldn't come out. She did the next best thing—the only thought that haunted her thoroughly. She kissed Pam.

The stench of the room was momentarily forgotten. The macabre scene fell mute and a distant second to Tara's lips pressed against hers. As much as she would have liked to romanticize the kiss more the reality of the wrecked room assaulted her again when Tara pulled away. Pam took charge pulling her out into the rain and driving her away from the hell she had made for her mother and her.

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The drive seemed shorter than heading home. Tara was silent and Pam didn't ask about anything else that might have happened. They both needed to change their clothes and Tara needed to get her wound taken care of. By the time they got on the country road the raining turned into a rhythmic drizzle.

Tara stayed in the car. She was sure she could move, but she didn't have the motivation to. The glazed over lost look greeted Pam when she opened Tara's door to help her out. Pam took the lead for the rest of the evening. She found a first aid kit and hoped that Peroxide and bandages would be enough care for Tara's wounds. Luckily they weren't too deep. They looked worse than they appeared when Pam inspected them with a half naked Tara leaning against her sink watching her intently.

They were both shivering as Pam looked over her wounds cleaning each scratch carefully. Water running filled the silence that would have been deafening without it. A hot bath always eased the tension of her day away. Tara's demons were a sight more serious than her whining employees, but it was the best she could come up with in short notice.

Pam pulled at Tara's jeans unbuttoning them. Tara stilled her hands. Swallowing the gamer pulled at the bottom of Pam's shirt. She continued to pull looking at the garment and then Pam, who answered reclaiming her shirt from Tara, pulled the shirt over her head in the process. Pam undressed Tara and finished taking off her clothes accepting Tara's silent invitation to join her.

Lowering Tara winced when she got low enough for the water to touch her scratches.

"Fuck," she breathed the pain hindering further descent.

Pam claimed the next wince of pain with a kiss with Tara hovering in the water. Finding her footing without breaking the kiss she pushed Tara down lowering herself in the water as well. Biting and nipping her bottom lip to distract Tara from the pain. Pam sucked in Tara's whimpering straddling the dark woman who lay back against the porcelain Clawfoot tub finally.

Mission accomplished, as pleasurable as distracting Tara was she pulled away only to be stopped by hands shooting around her waist.

"I like you here," Tara protested the move.

As a compromise since the hard porcelain hurt her knees she turned around in Tara's arms, "is this ok?" She was concerned about the scratches.

It hurt a little, but Tara nodded that it was fine. Pushing Pam's hair over his right shoulder exposing a smooth neck she kissed it causing the blond to lean forward to the side welcoming more attention. She felt Tara's slips then her tongue and gentle sucking. Her nipples hardened from the contact and her sex throbbed from the promise in the fingers that grazed the inside of her thighs she held them open.

Tara ran her teeth over Pam's pale skin as the blond sucked in a breath from fingers running along her clit.

"Fuck," she gasped, "no fair," she turned her head and met Tara's lips as the woman reached around her stroking her clit with Pam's eager thrusts. The blonds' hands shot out of the water grabbing the side of the tub to feel anchored to something. "No fair," she whimpered as Tara's fingers stroked her relentlessly never going inside.

She came once, then twice, and after three times she lost count riding the ride until she wrenched Tara's fingers away trying to catch her breath.

"No fucking fair," she breathed.

"What's not fair?" Tara ran her fingers along the line of Pam's arm.

"I shouldn't be the only unable to move," she moaned as she sucked Tara's lower lip until she had her whole mouth to run her tongue over. The blond turned ready to reciprocate when Tara stopped her hands from roaming.

Pulling her hands to her mouth she kissed them hard, "let's go to bed."

The blond tilted her head ready to protest, but she thought about what she'd been through tonight. She would give Tara a free pass. The executive rose pulling the gamer along.

"Big bed," Tara stopped at the door of the bathroom when she was fully dressed watching Pam getting comfortable in her Queen sized bed. She felt the large bandage through the fabric of her borrowed shirt.

"Plenty of room," Pam replied waiting for the younger woman to join her.

Tara bounced on the mattress pleased to find it bounce worthy. Unfortunately the action sent pain shooting through her side when she landed. Pam quirked her brow as she looked down at Tara yawning as the day and her long night caught up with her. She brushed a hair from Tara's cheek.

"You ok?" she managed a smile at Tara's antics.

Tara nodded. The executive reached over to the light to turn it out. In the dark Tara braved spooning Pam who welcomed her touch and her simple kiss goodnight on her cheek.


	17. Chapter 17

Tara stopped in mid morning stretch when she felt her body connect with something warm. Her eye pop opened and then the night floods back to her attacking her sleepy mind to awareness. Her mother, Pam being there, and the tub—she jerked upward especially remembering the tub. They were in a queen sized bed, the executive's queen sized bed in her house.

Pam pulled Tara's hand back. "Please tell me you're not one of those early risers," the blond groaned she couldn't take that right now.

Tara scooted closer, but held herself up on her left arm to look around the room. She saw a clock beside the table, "It's eleven o' clock."

The dark skinned woman didn't have to be to work so she lay back down. Pam mumbled a reply then she blinked, "shit." She rose from the bed and began looking around the room for her phone. Tara opened her eyes unwilling to miss the usually poised woman look in beautiful disarray.

Pinching the crust away from her eyes the gamer moved to the edge of her bed, to view Pam's derriere when she bent over enamored in her search. "Need help?" Tara offered clearing her throat.

The blond stood up ignoring her question. Her hands were on her hips in thought then she left the room. Heading down her stairs she found her coat at the foot. Searching the pockets she found both phones. She had twelve missed calls from her secretary, Venus, five more were from Sam and then the latter sent her a text message:

_I'm coming over_

She walked to the sitting room window, but she didn't see anyone yet. The message was fairly recent. Running a hand through her hands she rushed up the stairs. She found Tara putting on Pam's sweats under the borrowed night shirt.

"Sam's coming," she informed then addressed Tara wearing her clothes, "what do you think you're doing?"

Pam didn't know where last night factored in on their friendship, but the least they could do is talk. Because she wasn't clear on what exactly happened at the motel.

"Exercising good timing," Tara headed to the bathroom. She found mouthwash and began to gargle it when Pam came to the door arms crossed looking unhappy.

"What's the word for this?" she chewed over the term until it came to her, "oh yes, hit it and quit it."

Tara choked and ending up spitting the blue substance up in mid gargle. Coughing the veins in her neck popped out from the force. She used her hands on either side of the sink to keep her upright. "What the fuck?" Tara choked. "You're boyfriend's going to be here any minute. I'm doing you a fucking favor." The dark haired woman felt irrational anger controls her, through every action and her words were no better. She needed to get out of there before she said or did something she might regret.

Pam narrowed her eyes, "jealousy it is," she sighs while picking up her toothbrush and paste to start brushing. She hated morning breath.

Tara moved out of her way, "jealous of what?"

Pam brushed her teeth, she spit once, "he's rich," she brushed then she spit twice, "he's handsome, he's charming—he dates me, what's not to be jealous of?" She started brushing again.

Tara shook her head. Planting her feet apart she pushed into Pam causing the blond woman to catch herself on the sink with her left hand. "And that doesn't even begin to make up for that huge fucking blindfold over his eyes, he thinks he sees the real you," Tara ground out huskily in Pam's ear.

To keep up appearances to contradict the obvious signs of her arousal she continued to brush her teeth. Tara's hands came around her waist rubbing her nails along the flat of her stomach. Pam tried to focus on brushing but her strokes slowed to a stop and then she clamped down, with her teeth, on the plastic.

Tara pulled up Pam's shirt revealing the thin fabric of white lace underwear.

"Clearly I'm jealous," Tara moaned.

The blond tried to brush, but she succeeded in the one motion which she hadn't truly committed to before she gave up. Fingers toyed with the top of her panties inching under and pulling at the fabric. She watched Pam's eyes glaze over, toothbrush or no this was the sexist sight she had ever seen. Pam's hair fell over her shoulders her mouth was parted in anticipation—ready to voice her pleasure with an erotic sound that assaulted Tara below the waist.

"So fucking jealous," the dark skinned woman moaned again taking an earlobe in her mouth. It was Pam's undoing. While she enjoyed Tara's attention she felt it was time to return the favor. She bent over rinsing out her mouth dropping the toothbrush to spin in the sink. She grabbed Tara by her pants guiding her until their places were reversed.

She pulled the pants down. Full lips hovered over Tara's parted lips. She watched as her eyes closed and her bottom lip was sucked in. She parted Tara's legs with her own then reached down and began to caress Tara through the fabric of her pants. Pam knew she didn't have anything underneath. First Pam used a delicate touch too soft to be more than teasing.

Tara couldn't focus on one thing. She used her sense of touch to direct Pam's hand from the outside of her pants to the inside. She was insistent for more and to help the teasing blond she grabbed her wrist and pushed it inside. Pam smirked at Tara's eagerness to be taken as she pushed up so she sat on the sink.

The gamers' breathing hitched jumping when her lover felt for Tara's wet. Running her fingers through, around, and pinching the slick folds she watched mesmerized by the visible response for each treatment.

Tara heard knocking. She turned her head to the direction where the sound was coming from the front door she noticed before she lowered her head watching Pam's fingers disappear inside her.

"You hear that?" she panted. She was uninterested for Pam to stop, but she remembered Sam.

"I don't hear anything," Pam kissed her. She ran her tongue over and inside her mouth beckoning Tara's to come out and play. "And neither should you," she finished.

Tara met her thrusts and enjoyed it even more when Pam used her other hand to widen her wet lips to stroke her clit hardened from arousal. One hand Tara used to brace her body from falling back or over. The other she wrapped in Pam's hair pulling her closer to kiss. To thank her for sharing her expert touch, "fuck faster," she moaned as Pam's the speed of her ministrations obliged Tara's guttural request.

Tara's insides were warmed. She could feel her release and smiled she heard Pam moaning in delight with every eruption bathing her hand. Pam was infatuated like a child viewing a geyser for the first time. She didn't want it to end so she rubbed giving extra care to Tara's nub, since stroking it invoked delighted trembling and sprays of the dark woman's juices. Tara moaned leaning back opening her legs in the process providing a better view of her soaked sex. Irrevocably lost in a pleasure stupor, moans and declarations of love she wasn't even aware of echoed in the room.

Her legs sped shut riding the wave of the last explosion she could take. She blinked and Pam's smug smile came into view. Tara tried to catch her breath—she tried to speak. She knew she couldn't stand so she just lay there her until laying there became very uncomfortable, but Pam's arms were there to catch her. Tara nuzzled the pale neck. She smelled great in the morning she noticed kissing and sucking her thanks since words wouldn't do her gratefulness justice.

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While the two women languished in the bathroom Sam stood outside the door knocking. He didn't make a habit of worrying over every employee who didn't call out of work. He was emotionally invested. Things happen, but Pam not answering her phone was out of character. He was barely focused at work and after complete silence from the executive's end, he decided to ease his concern and curiosity and he headed to her home.

After she was comfortable enough to let him take the lead and pick him up he'd been to her impressive home twice. He felt comfortable to speed in the direction of the home without mechanical navigation. He saw her car in the driveway. He looked around the outside of the house with a cursory look then he tried to see anything helpful through the windows.

He looked like a peeping Tom in Eric's opinion when the long blond man came behind him up the stairs.

"Can I help you?" he asked. He didn't recognize the shorter man.

"No…yes…maybe Pam didn't come in to work today. I was concerned I still am," he explained to the complete, but handsome, stranger. "Who you are?"

Eric recognized that look. Usually Pam was on the other end of it when Eric introduced his very attractive best friend to his girlfriends.

"Eric, you must be Sam," the tall man answered before he passed him pulling out a key smugly.

Sam eyed the detail with interest.

"Pam has told me so much about you," he let himself in with the key he usually forgot when he came over.

His long legs ate up the stairs with athletic ease when he was sure Sam would stay put of after he suggested it. He headed to the master bedroom with the house mapped out in his head it wasn't hard to find. Eric didn't bother to knock and he stepped in to find Pam perched against her headboard and something moving under her blanket, which he assumed, was the source of the look of unmistakable pleasure.

"Is that a beautiful woman under there?" he startled her into shock halting her moan. He sniffed the room with the not so subtle aroma of sex, "or are you just happy to see me?"

Tara stopped then moved her head from the blankets to see the intruder. Pam panting rose from the bed letting her shirt cover her from Eric's prying eyes. Finding a robe she threw it on, "how'd you get in."

"You gave me a key."

"You never use the key."

"Because you always answer the phone," he looked pointedly at Tara's moist mouth, "but you were answering a more primal call. It happens to the best of us." He was having fun.

Pam wrapped her robe.

"Hello!" Sam called out from the bottom of the stairs worriedly.

Pam paused Eric was smiling too wide remembering her visitor, "who is that?"

"Sam," he said with too much mirth to sympathize with her predicament.

"Shit," Pam breathed. Had he heard them?

"If it's any consolation as a man I don't think he'll be too mad," Pam ran her hands through her hair. She was going to ignore her best friend and head downstairs, to receive Sam hoping she didn't look like a woman in the middle of having sex. She avoided the dejected look Tara was giving her.

Eric stood in the way when he saw her heading toward the door, "what are you doing?"

"I have to talk to him."

"_I'll_ talk to him," Eric told her. "Just count this toward that tab I have running for all the times you covered for me." He winked at Tara then left.

Putting on his best distraught face he met Sam who was halfway up the stairs. Holding his shoulder he guided the worried man down. "It looks bad she's burning up," he shook his head. "There isn't a spot on her body that isn't wet—some places more than others," he shared his observations with dramatic pause. The best lie was always based on the truth. "Her cheeks were flustered, her hairs a mess, she could barely move. I told her you were here, but you know how women can be. She doesn't want you to see her like this."

Sam turned to Eric when he realized he was trying to lead him out, "she needs a doctor," he pushed.

Eric shook his head deeply amused at himself, but he kept his tone deadly serious, "I've seen this type of thing before. The fever lasts for hours_ long_ excruciating hours," his gaze unfocused from memory. "But after plenty of rest and plenty of liquids," he offered the liquids as an after thought, "she'll be better than ever. She might even have a spring in her step."

"You've seen this before?" Sam was curious and too concerned to trust this stranger at his word.

"All my life," Eric added reassuringly.

"So you're a—"

"A leading professional that knows exactly what I'm talking about. Pam's in good hands."

"Tell her to call me."

"I am almost certain that's the first thing she'll do when she recovers," the faux professional closed the door before Sam could voice more of his apprehensions.


	18. Chapter 18

From her repose she watched a conscientious expression. Whatever Eric told him neither woman could hear, but Tara was more concerned about Tara and Pam as a couple, or whatever they were. She hadn't been with anyone since Naomi. She hadn't felt this way about Naomi or anyone in her memory. There were always strong feelings of attachment, but not this urge mirroring and insatiable itch. She felt like an addict.

Hands on her hips in her fluffy pink robe Pam stared at the door waiting for an unknown attacker to challenge her. Tara wouldn't mind seeing Pam getting down and dirty, hell, she had seen it. It was nothing like the poised Pam that she was accustoming to seeing at work, but that didn't make her any less desirable.

"This isn't me," she ran her hand through her hair. She turned to the window of her balcony viewing the expanse of her well kept backyard. She continued before the gamer asked Pam what she meant, "I don't hideout with my lover while Eric makes excuses for me for my…." Did boyfriend fit there? That's where she and Sam were heading, titles.

"You a little more old fashioned? You kick bitches out before your boyfriend can suspect you of anything?" Tara found Pam's sweat pants on the floor crumbled halfway between the bathroom and the bedroom. She put them on.

"Fuck you Tara."

"If we're going to keep this up then you're going to have to do better than that," Tara returned to the edge of the bed.

Pam turned around eying the dark skinned woman nonplussed. A line of pain wrinkled her brow as Tara shifted. Pam had forgotten all about her wound. Stepping toward her and grabbing onto the only anchor that required observation and simple reason.

"Let me see," she sat on the bed urging Tara to stand. Pam helped her shirt up and touched the bandage. There were ragged lines of blood that seeped through. She pulled it off and headed to the bathroom to get her last large bandage and something to clean Tara's wound with.

Tara hissed from the pain unconcerned how Pam might perceive her. The blond cleaned it as best she could then taped the bandage. She was glad she had overestimated the wound when she first saw it in the dingy motel room. The blond's nose twitched in memory of the rancid smell. The question of Tara's mother's whereabouts was still unanswered.

"Done," she stated gathering everything she considered trash away. She paused when she heard Tara begin to speak. She kept her head down still collecting the thin paper the bandage came in.

"I still can't believe that bitch did this," Tara snorted in disbelief. "I rearranged the room just right. I gave her a fucking schedule to wash up and shower, but she fucked that up," Tara's nose wrinkled remembering the smell. Lettie Mae pissed on the bed. She didn't care if she was sitting in a pool of her own piss. Her mother stooped lower to be more disgusting and disagreeable just so Tara would let her go.

Tara started again, "we tried this once before. We both gave as good as we received, but she wanted it more," Tara thought of her first failure compared to now, her mother still wanted it more. It was the drugs, the drink, the life where Tara never factored in as important enough motivation to quit them.

"When she came to the house, I thought I could do it right this time. Handcuffs, secluded motel," she cleared her throat examining Pam's handiwork, to do something as she struggled through her story. "She got free. It was raining and muddy. I couldn't see shit, but I ran out there like I was going to find her."

The gamer couldn't be told that she didn't have determination. She blinked away the rain heading in the wooded patch. She called Lettie Mae's name even when she knew her mother wouldn't shout back. She found her, without her mother's help. She tried to convince her to come back. Tears mingled with rain and Tara hated them but they fell anyway. They argued, then words became physical and Lettie Mae attacked her. Tara's scratches were from a branch Lettie Mae swung. The blow hadn't torn through the shirt, but it ruined the skin underneath enough for Tara to bleed out benignly.

Pam threw the trash away hearing the pain in Tara's voice she understood to an extent.

"I don't fucking understand her," she ground out, "I don't fucking understand me," she wiped the tears, produced from the retelling, angrily away.

"I never attempted to make my mother stop drinking. I think you show more initiative than most people with parents likes yours."

Tara's head rose at Pam's admission about her mother. She never knew. The knowledge warmed her that Pam was a kindred spirit of sorts, heightened by the momentary praise of Tara's misguided actions. She didn't feel like a complete fool. She wasn't done with the story. She still hadn't told Pam how much it meant to her to see the blond.

"I smelled you before I saw you."

Pam's brow curved in the curious way Tara was becoming familiar with, blaming it for the butterflies winging in her stomach.

"I'd been just knocked on my ass. So why the fuck was I smelling Pam—then I saw you. With your back turned I still knew who you were. I saw the look in your eyes and it didn't click until I yelled at you that you came for me. I felt worthless and worth something all in the same night and that shits overwhelming," she eyed Pam earnestly, "at least it is for me."

The executive started toward Tara slowly. She knew this was hard for the younger woman. She kept her strides simple and stealthy so she wouldn't startle her into silence. Tara needed to get this off her chest. Pam wouldn't interrupt she was touched by Tara's openness.

"I've never been saved before," Tara watched Pam taking care to advance so as not to spook her. She appreciated the forethought. "Growing up with mama I learned never to put myself in that position with people."

Pam understood the sentiment. She watched Tara's eyes float to the window. She didn't see her beautiful backyard. "She's out there somewhere, my mom, doing God knows what for beer or-,"

Interrupted by a warm hand, the contact brought her back in Pam's room. With her queen sized bed and her scented soap the source of the blond's daily aroma. Tara appreciated Pam bringing her back. She thanked her with a kiss, because again, words seemed weightless. She wanted the blond to feel how much she loved her even if she didn't want to say the words.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxx

"Knock knock."

Both women turned their heads to the door.

"If you're not decent I'm coming in anyway," Eric came inside bearing gifts. Under his arms were two types of cereal boxes. In his left hand three bowls with three spoons sitting inside the bowl on the top. His right hand held the milk. "I brought breakfast."

"That's the most pitiful excuse for breakfast in bed I've ever seen." Pam commandeered bowls and spoons for her and Tara. "Why is Nora marrying you?" Someone meeting the executive for the first time, her sense of humor would almost seem cruel. The small audience of Eric and Tara knew better.

"For my money of course," he smiled. He held up Cinnamon Toast Crunch and Honey Bunches of Oats as the options. Tara picked the sugary goodness while Pam and Eric reached for the healthier of the two.

Tara filled her bowl with an inordinate portion while her breakfast companions poured with reserve. Tara watched them as they shared the cereal and then the milk. Pam crossed legged and her hair down seemed much younger and vulnerable. Looks were deceiving, but she enjoyed seeing this side of Pam she felt just as comfortable showing Eric, whom she'd known for a lot longer. Eric took off his coat and relieved himself of his shoes and socks as this were his home.

"Speaking of Nora and me marrying her," he shifted his cereal with his spoon claiming a chair from the balcony. "She wants to say vows."

"You have to write your own vows?" Pam looked exceedingly amused.

"I was thinking more along the lines of you writing my vows for me," he paused to accessorize the request with a charming smile. "And give me all the credit," he finished.

The blond shook her head. Her best friend's face darkened.

"You owe me for this morning."

"And you owe me for life. I've exceeded my quota for lying to women for you."

"You say that as if we haven't both gotten something out of it," he took a bite crunching through his cereal. "In fact, I don't think you would be as agile and quick thinking, if I didn't put myself in awkward situations you had to lie to get me out of." His eyes grew wide, "which reminds me of Yvette."

Pam looked at Eric pointedly. He knew she didn't want Tara to hear this story, but he would be neglecting his best friend duties if he let this bit of dirt go untouched. And Tara was a rapt audience much to Pam's chagrin.

"Whose Yvette and what happened?"

It was all the motivation Eric Northman needed to regale the dark skinned woman about the Estonian masseuse his first fiancé found Pam in bed with. Pam had just come into the adjoining suite undressing and informing Eric to put his clothes on since she was coming up. She barely had enough time to get under the brunette when his fiancé stormed in. Her validation deflated when Pam's head peaked up from where Yvette's covered her.

"It was a kinky turn of events that we don't need to discuss any further, the end," Pam stated abruptly.

Eric smiled self satisfied finishing his cereal. An empty bowl sat in Tara's lap jiggling from her laughing. The taller blond joined in his smiled graduating to a modest chuckling. The only one in the room who wasn't amused was Pam.

"I'm definitely not writing your vows now," she purred vengefully.

Northman shrugged, "it was worth a shot."

Pam stood. She needed to get ready for her day, but then she realized she couldn't go to work. "What did you tell Sam?"

"I told him you were sick," he gave her the abridged version.

"That was it?" Pam placed her hands on her hips waiting for more. She knew Eric for far too long to consider that he just left it as 'she is sick'.

"I didn't say it in those words; I improvised with what I saw. He wants you to call him as soon as you recover from your long excruciating fever," he was purposefully suggestive.

Tara's phone rang.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxx

"Hey bitch," she greeted feeling happier than she felt for a long time.

"Fuck when it rains it pours for you bitch," Lafayette whispered harshly. He watched the police talk to his coworkers from his hiding place in the bathroom. Before she could ask about the echo or why he was whispering her barreled on. "They is looking for you."

"They?" Tara didn't like his whispering. "Who the fuck is they?" She corrected her tone when both blonds stopped talking amongst themselves alarmed by Tara's outburst.

"Five fucking O is here and I think they want to do more than ask you some questions. They said she dead."

Tara's smile fell. She rose from the bed picking the bowl up from her lap sitting it on the floor. She groaned in pain holding her side. "What the fuck are you talking about? She who?" The gamer managed the question when she was a comfortable distance away from the master bedroom. She walked to the top of the stairs.

"Lettie Mae is dead."

Tara sank to the nearest wall sliding down it. "What?"

"You're mama is dead. Where the hell happened?"

Tara dropped the phone. The fall was longer and louder extended by the length of the steps they descended. She was in her own world. Tara held her head in her hands. She felt tears rimming her eyes, but they didn't fall. Her mother was dead. How did this happen? She was alive last time Tara saw her.

Pam peeked out of the room starting toward Tara slowly with her arms crossed. Eric stood behind her.

"That office gossip I never liked it."

Tara wasn't listening but the blond continued.

"You sure you told me everything that happened between you and your mother last night," she asked carefully.

Tara's head shot up. The blond knew, that meant the office knew or rather they thought they knew.

"What the fuck Pam," her eyes focused. She had one emotion keeping her sane and it was anger. Anger against Lettie Mae—it would be her to fuck her over beyond the grave. Anger at Pam for having to ask the question and Anger at Eric for standing behind her like a bodyguard, Tara would never hurt Pam.

"It was dark, raining, cold, and you were emotionally drained and vulnerable," Pam recollected the lost expression on Tara's face. "I would understand."

Tara didn't know what Pam meant by that.

If she had done it the circumstances excused her taking a life? Was this Pam making sense of a very fucked up situation? It had to be. She wanted to believe that Tara had a good reason for killing her mother. The only problem with that is she didn't need to because Tara didn't fucking do it.

"We should call a lawyer," Eric offered somberly.


	19. Chapter 19

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because if you did it she deserved it," Naomi stated, "but I know you didn't."

Tara looked in the cup Naomi handed to her, "you sound sure." Tara went over the night in her head so many times. She felt unsure.

"It takes a special kind of woman to walk away and hold the pain inside. You didn't say shit when you found me in bed with Al you just walked out."

"Is this your way of apologizing? Giving me an alibi," Tara preferred to keep the conversation on topic.

Naomi lived by a wharf in an abandoned warehouse renovated as a living space. In was a three room loft with two doors for the bedroom and the other for the bathroom it left plenty space for the living area she and her band used for practices.

"I don't have anything to worry about. At the end of the day you didn't do it," she sat beside Tara. She didn't know if her hand would be accepted or not so she didn't reach it out and give her the comfort she needed. She couldn't help the touchy subject. "I'm surprised your girlfriend didn't beat me to it."

Naomi was already at the station before Tara and Eric arrived. She was filing a report for stolen property because an ex, who couldn't leave the past, in the past decided to steal Noami's semi acoustic guitar. Waiting the singer overheard Bellefleur brag, when he filled his coffee cup, about his suspect and how she beat her mother to death. Naomi didn't think anything of it outside of how fucked up could a person get. It wasn't until she stood to leave after her statement was taken, that she saw Tara sitting with the bragging cop. She'd been there for hours already with a cop that stared too long at her breasts. She informed anyone would listen that she knew Bellefluer's suspect was innocent because they were together all night.

The cop hated to get the call and was furious when the brunette, he vaguely remembered admiring, ruined his only lead. He had to let Tara go, but there was promise in his last words that this wasn't over for Tara.

The dark skinned woman leaned on her knees stretching to put the cup on the table on top of a stack of magazines. They must have been Al's contribution to the décor, Naomi hated cooking.

"Where is Al?" Tara made a show of looking around Naomi's apartment.

"She's staying with a friend."

"She trusts you with me?" Tara asked, but she didn't foresee anything happening between them, "I mean with your track record."

"Ouch," she smiled seeing Tara coming back to life. Tara answered her with a weak foundation for a smile. "I'm going to go to bed," she braved a brief pat on Tara's back. Her former lover didn't object or pull away from. Disappearing in her bedroom she closed the door to give Tara privacy.

The day had started out different and the only bright light of it was sharing a burden with Pam and being accepted for her shortcomings for a little while. Then, like a black cloud following her everywhere, Lettie Mae showed up or rather her body.

She felt on the outside looking in at the world around her as it moved and swayed to a tune she couldn't keep up with. Eric and Pam and Lafayette took their turns spinning her around on the proverbial dance floor, but Naomi was the one that stopped the ride long enough for her to focus. The singer looked at her without accusing; she just saw her and aimed to help.

Eric drove her to the station. Pam chose to stay behind and shower and dress. She said she would meet them there. The ride was quiet. Tara wanted Pam with her, but the blond had made her choice. She wouldn't beg her to come now when Pam assured her the executive would come later. Eric put on music to fill the silence. He didn't like the quiet anymore than Tara did. Someone was dead and he could, by popular opinion, be driving a murderer around. Tara looked out the window. She wasn't a murderer.

Tara informed the sergeant at the front desk who she was. She was told to wait. Eric sat beside her unwilling to leave her alone even if they had nothing to say. She smiled gratefully at him when she was greeted by the detectives that walked her to the back. They sat her in an office and made her wait another hour. She watched enough cop shows to know that they were making her sweat. Someone was probably watching her through the glass windows. But every time she looked around everyone around her was busy at work.

"Sorry to keep you waiting."

Tara frowned at the phrase. She thought they could come up with an original line. Detective Bellefleur had a wide face with distrusting eyes. His voice scratched cutting through the quiet but offering no more comfort since his manner was disagreeable. The cop went through cordial offerings of a beverage to drink a guise to make her comfortable and pliant. They wanted her nice and ready for when they dropped the bomb.

She heard the sympathy when he told her Lettie Mae was dead. She didn't see it. He opened the file under his arm he came in with along with the steaming coffee cup. Tara read it upside down. It had her mother's name written at the top of it. Her criminal files. He asked her where she was. Tara thought about lying. Then again Pam and she left in a hurry last night the room would still be a mess. The clerk would have undoubtedly shared the copy of her I.D. with the cops to confirm she was the one who rented the room.

The gamer told him where she was.

He nodded his head like a bored counselor. Then he informed Tara how Lettie Mae's died flicking his hazel eyes to her fists. Tara visibly frowned. By this time she was fed up with his inhospitable voice. She convinced herself smashing his coffee cup in his face wouldn't help her case. Tara sat through the detective stating facts, gauging her reaction and waiting for an explosion. He played this game with her for two hours. Dragging his words, clicking his tongue as he perused the file Tara was almost positive he was familiar with. She felt her anger rising with each passing moment he was wasting her time playing to her anxiety of being suspected, but never admitting she was a suspect.

Her mother lived a hard life. If she had no qualms fucking her daughter over Tara doubted friends and acquaintances were exempt. Tara on the defensive noted off acquaintances she knew by name of her mothers. And even then she wasn't sure how much help that would be. The detective nodded his head and shared the story from the club owner, her mom's boss, about their family dispute. The story was distorted, but Tara knew what he was talking about.

"Fuck me," Tara growled ready to jump out of her seat in frustration, "are they suspects, the strippers, the boss, the fucking dealers or the junkies she used with and stole from!" She screamed because she was innocent. If she were looking at the evidence she might think Tara did it. Her mother's life was too sordid, full of too many despicable characters, to narrow it down to Tara, the only person with a steady job. She barely had any knowledge about that life.

She was inching toward an outburst that would damn her character and validate, for this detective, she was capable of uncontrollable rage. He'd thrown the pictures at her of her mother's dead body beaten to death.

The detective's phone rang. He answered never taking his off Tara.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxx

Lafayette knocked on the door. There was no answer. He knocked harder and louder. Naomi's neighborhood wasn't a terribly safe to explore in the dark, but Lafayette didn't care. When he went to the station he was informed along with Pam, who arrived seconds after him, Tara was gone. She was released because of an alibi. This information confused Pam, because she was the only one who knew where Tara was last night. Now she stood outside of Tara's ex lover's apartment on Lafayette's hunch that this is where Tara would be.

The door slid open and her heart sank when Tara answered the door. Sighing, the gamer slid it wider waving them in dismissively. She came to Naomi's to escape them to get her mind wrapped around her mother's death.

"What the fuck happened?" Lafayette started with the energy that made him a force.

Pam on the other hand walked around the room glancing from Tara and her roommate meeting the dark woman's eyes occasionally when Tara looked up. She wanted to vouch for Tara, because the part of her that believed unflinchingly, her lover was innocent scared her. They hadn't put a name to feelings wants or desires, but it was there in each look, touch, the tension and the stronger emotions. Those same emotions had her looking all over the southern city to find Tara to explain and apologize in any and every order Tara would listen.

"They told us you was gone. Some bitch came to corroborate your alibi." he took a seat on Naomi's couch the same place the brunette sat when she was comforting Tara. "And I'm thinking where the fuck would you go. Your ass wasn't at the apartment, not at Sookies," he fingered them off standing from his own momentum. "Then I got CSI with the shit. And here you is with the one bitch you didn't think I'd think of," He caught his first breath, "Sookie says hi by the way."

Naomi's bedroom door opened. The singer in nothing more than panties and a shirt yawned, "Could you yell at her a little bit quieter." She walked over to Tara and rubbed her shoulder comfortingly, "you ok?"

Pam didn't like the intimacy of the question or the situation. "What exactly have you and my girlfriend been up to?"

Unruly h air fell to the side of her face, "it's called comfort. She just lost her mother."

Tara's jaw clenched.

Naomi felt reassured to attack the very people Tara explained her she didn't want to be around. Lafayette would bombard her with questions, but Pam was a trickier puzzle, she wasn't sure what happened. The shift in Tara's demeanor when Naomi mentioned her was telling.

The executive narrowed her eyes. She felt guilt. She was driven by it refusing to sleep until they found Tara. They couldn't call because the gamer's phone broke tumbling down her stairs. With Lafayette as her only resource she searched for Tara with an urgency that couldn't wait until morning. Daylight would be too late and things needed to be said before then. If only she had figured out what would fix this.

"Slow your roll bitches," Lafayette refereed. Rubbing the side of his head with his fingers, "Pam and I just came to see if you was ok. It's late. And we all need our beauty sleep." He dragged his eyes over to Naomi, "some of us need all the hours they can get."

The brunette frowned, but she stayed silent.

Pam was fixated on the hand still on Tara's shoulder. She didn't like the idea of leaving Tara alone with her half naked ex. She showed it as much when she didn't bother to follow Lafayette. Naomi read their quiet as a cue to leave and Lafayette stepped out to give them privacy.

"I handled this morning wrong." Pam started.

Tara laughed harshly, "You're moaning my name. In the next breath you're calling me murderer."

"I handled it extremely wrong," Pam edited.

Tara shook her head cutting her eyes the beautiful executive.

"I don't think you killed your mother."

"It took you a whole day to figure that shit out?"

"I knew before then." It sounded like a line and Pam wasn't above using it to get Tara to forgive her, but it was true. She held onto the facts new and old and Tara's story came into question. She hadn't thought her accusation through. She just needed to ask to know if Tara had done it, because she couldn't trust the invisible force telling her to blindly trust Tara. "If you hadn't run off with _her_ you would have known sooner."

"You're full of shit."

"You're being unfair."

Tara stood, "unfair is when you hide me like a fucking embarrassment. Then have me escorted out like a house nigga. FYI the plantation didn't help."

"My actions were deplorable. I can't help what house my mother left me. And I don't think of you as an embarrassment. We both know I wouldn't call you a house anything," she positioned her hands on her hips. They were spiraling. She sighed when she looked at her phone. Sam was calling. The man could earn an award for bad timing if such a competition existed.

Tara glared at the phone, "fucking answer it," the woman demanded.

Pam met her fiery gaze. She pressed the button.

"Hello Sam," the blond said purposefully confirming Tara's suspicions.

The gamer swallowed in reproach.

The executive paused to let Sam speak, but she interrupted when his tangent of worry was getting ridiculous. "I can't talk right now Sam. I sound fine because I was never sick. I'm discussing a very sensitive subject with my girlfriend right now," she paused to give the courtesy of reacting. "I know this comes as a shock, but the affair was rather abrupt. I think you're a nice man. And if I hadn't fallen in love I'm sure we would have good together." He didn't say much after that. She hung up the phone.

Tara was shocked. Their eyes met for a long while, but neither woman said anything. Today had been draining emotionally and physically. Pam had said her peace. Tara could sleep on what she just said, and if she was unsatisfied then the blond would do more convincing tomorrow.

"I have to take Lafayette home," she announced as the only reason she wasn't staying.

The sound of Pam's heel filled the space until it was shut by the door closing. What a fucking day. Tara dropped down in the chair her resolve to stand broken. She wanted to cry, she didn't.


	20. Chapter 20

Tara heard them talking, but she didn't open her eyes to acknowledge that she was so single-mindedly discussed by her ex and Sookie. Tara hadn't opened her eyes, but she could tell they were in the kitchen from the stools moving and the glasses rattling. She heard the outside as well. Naomi left the door open until the rest of the band arrived. Then she'd close it so they could practice. Sookie liked to cook and Naomi hated it so the duo worked out a nice arrangement for breakfast since neither one of them had day jobs. Her stomach grumbled when she heard the bacon sizzling, the eggs were ready and its smell was wafting in the living area. Band practice wouldn't start until everyone arrived. As far as she knew no one knew about her mother. Her fucking mother. She hadn't cried for her yet. She wanted to—she felt the urge, but the tears never came.

She settled into the blanket and pillow listening intently.

"She'd be rotting in jail if her rich girlfriend had her way," Naomi stated.

"I don't see that," Sookie defended.

The blond knew the lead singer had issues with being replaced in Tara's life. But, if it was anyone's fault it was her own. A freak accident, defying the laws of physics, didn't cause Naomi to lose her clothes and fall naked in bed with Al, her new girlfriend.

"You didn't see her," Naomi wanted everyone on her side, even if it meant skewing the truth. "She basically threw her out. Then comes here in the middle of the night to fucking argue."

This was a habit of hers Tara didn't miss. And while the professional gamer wasn't happy with Pam she didn't like Naomi bad mouthing her out of spite.

"I wouldn't take everything she says to heart Sookie," Pam invited herself in. "Half asleep and bitter makes you a very unreliable source." She noticed Tara's bundled form on the couch. She headed toward the ragged leather.

"Aren't you a high and mighty bitch," she seethed. Her open door didn't welcome everybody.

Sookie, who had been crunching bacon vigorously, slowed her chomping to modest crunches. She waited for Pam's comeback.

"I love your energy," the executive purred, "shame about the imagination as if I haven't been called 'bitch' before."

Sookie's phone began to ring. Looking from one woman to the other, she reached for her phone whispering, "hello."

"You at the bitch apartment?" Lafayette wiped away excess lip gloss from the side of his mouth.

Sookie eyed Naomi glaring at the care Pam gave to brushing strands of hair out of Tara's face. "Yep."

"How's Tara?"

"Sleeping."

"What the fuck bitch? What's with this monosyllable shit?"

"Pam's here," she stated in her one word rhythm.

Lafayette's eyes widened he slid away from his desk excited. "Catfight?"

"Soon."

"Put me on speaker bitch."

"Uh huh," she answered distractedly.

Sookie placed the phone in time for Pam to state:

"The way I hear it opening every whole on your body ruined your chances with her."

Naomi started toward her causing a stool to scrape in the process. Tara sat up feigning a yawn stopping the singer her tracks. Making a show of wiping her eyes she looked at the three women greeting her. Silence greeted her as each woman recovered from the verbal sparring.

Lafayette's eager voice broke the silence, "Naomi get her ass kicked yet?"

"Tara woke up. Bye," Sookie ended the call sheepishly. The singer glared at the phone then at her drummer.

"You have a guest," Naomi growled unhappily returning to her island to make her snack.

Tara untangled herself from the blanket. Standing she stretched, Sookie waved weakly. Pam watching her every movement kept her hands in her skirt pocket. If any physical contact was to be made Tara would make them.

"Can we talk?"

Tara nodded her head following her outside and down the flight of stairs to her car.

"How much of that did you hear?" Pam admired the view of the ocean leaning against her Honda.

The dark haired woman chuckled, "I don't what you're talking about. But it'd be a hell of a way to wake up with two hot women fighting over me, though."

Pam quirked her brow.

"Especially if one of them happens to be you."

Flirting was good. That meant there was hope for them. She liked that feeling hope, how it filled her up and made the overcast day seem sunny. She didn't want to bask in the good feelings when she knew there were other issues that needed to be taken care of.

"How are you holding up?"

Tara's smile dropped and squinted unnecessarily at the sea. Without the sun reflecting on it the surface it was devoid of shine.

"They showed me her pictures," stated somberly. A slight breeze blew hair in her face. Pam didn't have that problem with hers combed perfectly together in a tall bun. "Of her you know….." she drew it out. Whoever did that really hated her. I kept looking at it thinking that I couldn't do that." She met Pam's concerned eyes, "she did some pretty fucked up shit. I couldn't do that to her."

"I know," Pam assured. She didn't think Tara was telling her to try to convince her. She supposed the darker woman wanted to paint a picture of her mother's beating. "You'll mourn in your own way and you'll get over it in time," she softened her tone so it didn't sound recited.

"Yea," she agreed half heartedly.

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Pam knew she should have been kinder. It wasn't polite to be abrupt and callous, but Sam had called at an inopportune time where her emotions had gotten the better of her. She sat at her desk waiting for him to call, but he did her one better and asked her out to lunch. She would have said no if she didn't feel like Sam needed a clearer explanation.

They were civil as they ordered. The conversation was light and she liked that he didn't delve into the inquiry about this girlfriend she mentioned last night. When he called for the check she wondered how many lunches would he pay for before he asked her, fortunately, he needed just the one.

"Last night," he started, but Pam interrupted ripping the band aid away in opposition to the slow peel.

"I told you I have a girlfriend."

"Yes that," he tilted his head with two identical indents over his brow of a man that rarely practiced frowning.

"I've been irresponsible with other people's feelings lately. I'm usually decisive about what I want."

"What do you want?" he asked then continued, "I know I put you on the spot, but she's not here right now. I am," he reached his hand out to cover hers. Pam eyed him and considered his comforting gesture. It was so different from Tara's soft palm and her dark skin.

She thought about the houses, the cars, the luxury trips, and their same circle of elitist friends. They were surrounded my money and accepted wherever they went because they were a striking couple with money. She pictured their children. They would inherit attributes from both parents, she saw beautiful offspring. That world was easy. Tara's would be hard if her mother's case was any indication. Trouble followed her lover and if there wasn't trouble then there would always be Lafayette, or an ex with a grudge and weird friends named Sookie.

She always relied on logic and deduction. But, if she relied on that then Sam was the only acceptable choice. She knew every reason why she should make it work with him, now, while he was still willing to leave the window open.

She preferred the gamer. She always preferred the game. How else could she describe what the urge to be around Tara? Pam hadn't let Sam touch her like she let the dark skinned gamer. Their kisses, while nice, never sparked anymore than pleasant feelings that didn't rival the need in Pam Tara incited.

No, it was the gamer.

"I love her," she heard herself say. But it was more for her to say aloud and mean it, than an affirmation to her preference for her girlfriend.

Ever the gentleman, Sam took this information in stride. He paid for the bill and walked the lady to her car for the last time. She offered him a kind smile when she got in the car and drove away with his hopes and dreams.

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Lafayette dangled his keys in the same way he always did when he walked the short distance to his apartment from the stairs. He glared at their elevator. He couldn't wait until that shit got fixed. Until then he could at least enjoy the burn in his legs. His day was long being out of the loop, but he would get the dirt. He always did. He heard the TV. Turning the key he walked in wearing a knowing smile. His Tara was back. The gamer didn't do anything that hinted she had left.

"I was hoping to see a black eye next time I saw that bitch," Lafayette closed the door greeting Tara playing the game. "The bitch is still ugly," he noted. He stopped by Naomi's worried to know Tara had left happy to be informed that Tara was here.

"You weren't saying that when I was dating her," Tara stated angling her remote as if it would make her character jump higher.

"If I had said it then you wouldn't have believed me. Now I can say it all I want and you don't say shit." He grabbed two coffee cups. Sitting beside Tara on the floor he poured her a cup and then he placed his on the right. "Put it on two player bitch. I been kicking Dylan's ass all day in the C-verse. I'm an unstoppable bitch."

"That shit stink," Tara's nose wrinkled.

Lafayette glowered in answer,"what?"

"That bullshit," she chuckled. She saved then ended her game to change the settings to two players.

Lafayette sipped his cup of liquor, "I see you done started drinking before I got here. Ain't no way you talking shit losing to Dylan on Dance Marvelous."

"That's below the belt."

"Thinking below the belt is why your ass lost."

"Matter fact," he started as if he thought of the best idea in the world. "We should call her up."

"Might as well she's the only your ass is going to win."

She and Lafayette drank from their cups at the same time while their game loaded. Cutting their eyes at each other— then at Lafayette's phone protected in a pink case.

Shooting up Tara got to her feet first. She lunged toward the phone, but Lafayette grabbed her by the waist throwing her to the left. Falling face first on the cushion Tara recovered climbing over the chair arm using that momentum to dive for Lafayette's legs. Losing his footing he fell bringing the phone down with him. Tara crawled over her roommate but he grabbed her forearm with fingers almost reaching the phone, laying inches away from them on the floor. Her elbow came down on his chest hard.

"Bitch," he breathed through the shock of the involuntary blow.

Using his superior upper strength he turned his body over reaching his phone. Holding his arm out to stop her from reaching in he scrolled through his contacts hitting the name Sugar Cube.

Tara heard the phone dial then ring. Soon after that she heard another phone ringing. Both roommates looked at each other then the door where the sound was coming from.

Lafayette answered putting it on speaker, "hello?"

"I hate to speculate about the noise, but are you girls fighting?" she asked with a deep southern drawl.

Tara stood up and Lafayette followed. Straightening up her hair and her shirt she plastered a smile then opened the door. Pam's greeted them in hills her black striped skirt with pockets and a purple blouse, with a modest neckline with pearls doubled around her neck. Tara must not have been fully awake to notice how good Pam looked that morning. She noticed it now.

"Hi."

Pam's answer was a slower wary of what she walking into, "Hi."

"Just the woman I wanted to see."

"Lafayette," Tara drew out in warning.

He ignored her ushering Pam in leaving Tara with the door still open. Slamming it Pam quirked her brow in her direction while Lafayette actively ignored her.

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I'm cutting you off for the day you addicts lol. Seriously, I need to get some vitamin d. More pages will be up bright and early tomorrow. Though if any of you get a chance do leave comments about the story structure, consistency in my writing story, character development, etc. (not looking for an ego stroke, I just might want to take writing seriously one day) It'd be good to know strengths and weaknesses: negative comments also welcome. Thanks!


	21. Chapter 21

Detective Bellefleur watched Tara as she followed the handcuffed suspect escorted by a cop disappear into a room for holding. He was young, an addict, and the combination didn't make him too smart. After she was released from the suspect pool she went back to her life. She still hadn't cried for her mother and Pam still assured her it was ok. Tara tried to place him. But, she couldn't say she recognized him when the detective asked if she'd seen him before. The dark haired woman steered clear of her mother's life as much as possible. She wanted to recognize him. It might help make more sense, but this kid she had never seen before.

They found his dna under her nail. Her mother was a fighter—a sorry excuse for a human being, but a fighter nonetheless. He was in the system and they brought him in with a warrant. He wasn't hard to find. The desire for a fixe succeeded his instincts to run.

The detective looked trite. To redeem his first mistake he scoured the streets until he found him. Scoured sounded like more work than he actually did, but it was the word he used to describe his efforts in anyone was interested and asked. He called Tara in to talk abut the progress of the case. It was solid and there were no apologies from their first meeting. He justified his actions because he was doing a job, it didn't make him the most popular man, but he liked to think of himself as a decent cop. On the hierarchy of suspects the family came first. Then the search branched out to friends and acquaintances. Someone who knew her killed her.

"Why?" Tara croaked and the response didn't surprise her.

"Drugs," he answered like she should have known. "She didn't have any. He did. He wasn't giving it up." Animals were better to fight over food, at least sustenance was necessary. His voice was level with definitive details he saw no need in softening or bringing the scene to life. Tara saw the pictures. She lived with an addict all her life. Her mother picked a fight she couldn't win and the boy responsible would pay.

"I'm sorry for your loss. I'm sure she was a good woman."

Comfort wasn't his strong suit, but he saw a need for it. Tara wasn't particularly moved when she realized he was trying to make her feel better. Tara knew the detective meant well by ignoring the file. Though, she didn't need to be placated to have closure about the woman. Tara nodded her head in thanks disbelieving her mother was anything more than what met the eye. Controlled by her needs, Tara attempted to help her break, she was irresponsible and desperate. Tara had killed her indirectly. If she hadn't starved her for three days maybe she wouldn't have been desperate for the drugs she tried to take.

In the retelling with Pam in the car the blond didn't answer until she stopped the car in the driveway. Neither woman got out. They sat in silence for a few minutes. She didn't know if it was the weight of tension eroding off her shoulders. She looked at Pam's home it was beautiful and her yard. It was perfect. Pam told her growing up here was great, but her childhood was the only great memories about the place. She thought of selling it back to her father, who she rarely if ever talked to, but then her mother would turn over in her grave if she did sell it back to him. Taking the house had been her mother's strategic move giving her security—the house made her think of that gesture and evolve it over the years until the house became beautiful to her again and her mother with it.

Tara opened the door to the car. Pam followed her lead still not saying anything. She took one step and then she grabbed for something to hold her up. She was falling and Pam came around the car to catch her as she trembled and cried. Her nose ran with tears and snot merging, but Pam didn't think twice pressing Tara comforting against her breast. Neither woman knew how long they sat there. Pam rocked back and forth like her mother use to do her; she recalled how comforting it was. Inexperienced with this physical comfort, she rocked having memorized the rhythmic pattern, wanting to share it with Tara.

Her crying subsided to a few stubborn falling tears. The gamer turned her face away to hide the mess she knew she looked like.

Pam didn't let her go too far and pulled her hand in hers. "Let's go."

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Tara wasn't hungry. Pam didn't do anything fancy. She made sandwiches and put them in the fridge for later when Tara was hungry. When she entered the room Tara was on the bed with her eyes closed, but Pam could tell by the rise and fall of her chest she wasn't sleep. She was remembering and letting it go, or that's what she hoped. She did the same thing with her mother. Letting images of past far and present, at that time, fill her up and she kept the ones that made her think any less, of the woman that gave birth to her.

The only acknowledgement, the gamer gave her to show that she knew Pam was there, was the shift of her body to grab hold of the nearest limb and cuddle it. That happened to be her leg. Not entirely rendered immobile Pam reached her book and glasses from her side table. The blond began to read, catching up with the characters she'd been neglecting.

They enjoyed the silence until Pam became enthralled in her novel and Tara drifted asleep. An hour of peace, she should have been expecting his call she hadn't talked to him for days.

"I'm not doing your vows," Pam answered the phone when she saw Eric's name.

"Yes yes I know," Eric smiled into the phone, "how is she?"

Pam was watching over Tara as she slept drawn away from her book to muse. The dark skinned woman was exhausted still wrapped around her right leg sleeping. "She's getting better."

"Have you two…" He drew it out, "because you know it helps."

"Why did you call Eric?" she asked slightly irritated by her juvenile best friend.

"I want you to listen to something. My vows."

Closing her book, "you have my full attention."

He warned her it was in the beginning stages, but she told him to continue. Northman began in a softer tone than he would normally use to convey the emotion of the words:

We are resolved into the supreme air,  
We are made one with what we touch and see,  
With our heart's blood each crimson sun is fair,  
With our young lives each spring-impassioned tree  
Flames into green, the wildest beasts that range  
The moor our kinsmen are, all life is one, and all is change.

Pam stared down at Tara as he said the words. Rubbing her brow with a caring nail that lined the hair of her brow back in place, this had become a habit of hers. She wanted an unobstructed view of Tara when she was at her most vulnerable. The gamer was beautiful when she smiled, but asleep she had an innocent quality imparting a vision of Tara, if Lettie Mae hadn't been such a disappointment.

"That's all I've got so far," he interrupted her vigil. "What do you think?"

"It's wonderful," she whispered distractedly as Tara began to stretch awake. "But then for me Oscar Wilde can do no wrong," she smiled.

"Oscar who?" Eric claimed ignorance.

Pam shook her head with an indulgent smile that Tara kissed. When Tara pulled away she continued, "If you plagiarize your vows your wife won't be your wife for long," she stated. Tara took the phone hanging it up for her.

She didn't question Tara's onslaught. Tara's hands were everywhere all at once, burning the skin they grazed with lips, teeth, and tongue. Throwing her head back she let the dark skinned woman have her way with her neck as Tara straddled her. They were reconnecting after the word reared its head distracting them from what was truly important.

Tara's stomach growled. The gamer fully intended to ignore it, but it caused an interesting sound to bubble from Pam's mouth. The dark haired woman pulled away to inspect it. She saw the full teeth and the sound was unmistakable. She was laughing.

"I like that sound."

"I like making it." She kissed Tara again sucking in her lip then letting it go. "But I think the sound your stomach is making is more pertinent. I made you some sandwiches." She patted Tara's thighs as a gesture to rise.

Hand in hand they walked to the kitchen. Tara claimed seat by the window with a view of Pam's backyard.

The sandwich was ham, lettuce, mayo and pickles with pepper sprinkled on the top. She never cared for tomato, "where's the tomato?" the gamer asked. She hadn't told her that detail yet.

"You don't like tomato."

"How do you know?"

"Pineapple Café," the perceptive woman answered. "You ordered every wrap on the menu except the ones with tomato. And you don't like to seem picky so you never order them because you'll have to say no tomato." Tara shared the short list of jobs she had before becoming a professional gamer. Her stint in fast food influenced her dining experience.

"You got all that in two weeks?"

"And then some."

Tara saw the path the older woman mentioned the day of the office gathering. Pam read her thoughts when she placed the plate in front of Tara. The gamer bit into her sandwich.

"I haven't forgotten."

Chewing, she finally answered, "You've been keeping me in suspense woman. I'm starting to think you're stalling just to keep me around."

The blond shook her head, "I'm keeping you around for other reasons," she smiled mischievously. When she recovered, "you see that tree house back there."

Swallowing her bite Tara tilted her head to the side and up. She could see it. It was faded and Tara had never noticed it until now. "Yea, you played in that?"

It was huge. How the hell did she miss that? She had to blame the beauty of her yard before the tree house. It was dull in comparison. The rest of the backyard was impressive and the vibrant colors kept her focused on the flowers and the small stream circled by a walk paved with white stones. The garden was well kept, but the tree house was in need of the same care.

"I want you to work on that."

Tara stopped chewing. The wonder falling from her face, "you know how long that's going to take?" The structure wasn't a regular sized tree house; it looked like a small cottage from the front. It was two stories as it extend from the ground as well.

"A long time."

"There are better ways you can punish me," the dark skinned woman drawled.

"But you'll like those ways too much." The blond finished with intention, "I could've worn my favorite pumps today, if they weren't ruined."

Tara looked from the house to her lover and then back again. "You just want to see me sweaty and dirty," her eyes narrowed.

Pam rested her chin in her hand as her elbow sat on the table top, "I won't deny I might find a measure of pleasure," she held her other hand up illustrating how much, with a diminutive distance between her fingers.

Tara frowned unconvinced finishing the last bite of her first sandwich.

"You are lucky I love you."

Pam laughed.

Her laughs, her wit, her smile, were a few on a list of pleasures Tara looked forward to with Pam in her life. For a moment she could entertain this was only temporary. In her experience relationships lasted for a short time. She wanted forever and if Pam didn't say she showed it assuring Tara they were on the same page.

Pam's actions were the best compliment and more assuring than promises, which were ruined for her as child. The small things she loved, because for as long as she remembered they were denied to her. Pam wouldn't deny her anything. Tara might give her a hard time, but she wouldn't deny the blond either. Pam saved her whereas Tara's only mission had been to make her smile.

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This has been fun. Hope you enjoyed the story. For those of you that I know have enjoyed it I'm glad I could entertain you for a couples of your day.


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